
^ 



I 



q 



:^S 




"V-St" *E@I3-^ C -*L= *C C 
^ <C *mMS <C<: CCC 

c c <L<- <?-<: <r ■ c. 

<SC*B£C- .CC c c 
<c c c c 



~cc<r 

^ <cc 

»r <^C c 

rcc <lc c 

rccc «cc c 

: t < c_*jb:<exc « - ( j 

-S^CCCCC? CC. 

~1RC CC c . 

"<£<£: cc 

BT cc 






" ccoci". « 



c <; ccs 
<LC CCC 

CC 

ccc 



c:rc:c«:c 



Swore 



GXX 






cr << 



s:ss^scgs ^ gG C £g ^ sg c cg^ a gsg 5 ^ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, S 



SAe// . -*§£ 



$ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. J 



__C < 

^ cc cccccc • c 

; o:<r<: c <;<x - r~ 
^Z c c c cr^-'-v. 

cc< •;cccc:<r ^ 

CC( :C c <T C <x 

c cc cc <x i 

cr- < c ct ■ €c: <r c 

cr c c <l cc: <r 

C cc mZ <C r C <<: 

o cc cc cc: <t c: c 

«<rc«: _«^«3c: c c: *^ 

- c cc cc c & £ 

c c cc cc c c 5^ 
ccc cc cc cc cc 

^c cc cc: 

c cc c^c . 

cc «c c c 
x cc ^ ^c 

CC «l( 

c c 



~" C < < C'CCC <^ c c < ( «, 

« csbcc:oc<c « 

_ cc«r cr c c r ^ ^ c cc 

C CCC«.c C ^CC ^i 

- ^«: iMcc 5^ cc 

<T.' cacr <-Ui€CC cc c c /- 

<:;-5C dec cc t y^ 

. <C CC. C C!,CC C CC C. ^ 

<r cc ccccc: cc <^ c r c f 
s*.c cxi: 



%% 






fc CC ^§CL 

jc 

~~~ *r it - ^S*3 C^| 



«_cc*c 



c «KC«r 



at *aE. ^£ ^ 






c c 



r < 


GO' 


T<zc <rc 


c 


d« 


'C<r 




C c ^ . ( 


<3^ 


cc: * 


crc 


- 


cc 


oc * 


fe^c 


c < C 


CC 
CC 


ccr < 


■^"^ **r 


C(-"( 


ki 


cc-c ; c 


<<r 


CC 4C 


&« 


cc« C 


<r 


<3C ^t 


:c at 


c<rcc c 


<cc 


<c «: 


t<r 



co.ccc" «^c<c~ 

c exec c <c cc 

C CCCOC cc c< 

cc. cc cr\<c 



jc «^<^f<rcc ■ 

c . cc <sc <^t <gc 
cc ^CtC 
- ccc "«<r cc; cc 

5^ CC €Z<T 43 cc 

r cc CC C? CC « 

<C XC CSC <g?' cc < 

<Cj cc cc ^c cC « 
«£ cc cc CTC CC €. 

CC5C cc <c <LC;cK < 

re CC ex CC CC OC 

cc cc- cc:; crc cc: 






^ :." C C C CC S=<^ ;<3 C «C 

^c <lc cc cc< <^= 

"C cue *c <k ><r 

V< C CccCt CCCC0 
cc C c OCCC CC cC 



::< v Cjci - <cc oc r ®r 
~^ c«c; <cc4gc c ; 
^ c : S-*& ^c«£C <::. CV < 
£~ c >.c^ «<c< crrxr*. <^ 

c cc *r c c cc 



0cc^c^c c < cCC 

<XCC CC5CCC 

C cS< 

-c C ,_ 

CCcc 



><>C C c C<NccCC 
CC 

cc c c cc act 



c < 'cc c orir^V V VVV^y> 



>^ cc <3c <c<fccc' 

CC : <sr cc CCClCtc 
CCc c 



fe «c 

^ cc «s 
CC C7 

1 cc^ 

, CC" - 



&« 



c c 



Cc^ctc,: -CTc. s4. 


■^Cjc" 


cccc c: 


^KTC 


CCCC <7 


4t03t ■■< 


CCcCC <T< 


"CMCi 


cp<cc<rc 


mXl:c; 


Cf<ccc <T CL CC 


^CF c 


cccccc^ CC 


^K< c 


cc;^..^^:;<c: 


<rc< 


:c'^cTc 


^CJ" ( 


r*KZm<^ 


r<^ci 


«Z^£c« 


: <r<4 


:• ^tCC ^C 


rjffi 


^^S^^ ^~40k!^ 




V. 'C-^I^E»C': CC 


C 


fe=i-,, >^. ;_- ^UIm- 4m 


C'f< 


ByJI^EHI BslC C#C 


^r ^r 



P O E M S, 



MORAL, HUMOROUS, AND DESCRIPTIVE. 



BY THOMAS SMITH, 



GLASGOW : 

TRIN'TED BY D. MACKENZIE FOR THE AUTHOR. 



1806. 



P™v^ 




5 

4 



THE 



AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 



IN offering the following pages to the Public, 
I am aware that some of my rhyme-reading 
friends might be disposed to think me deficient 
in good manners, should I obtrude myself on 
their notice without a word or two by way of 
Preface or Apology. Anxious to escape il-h 
censure in this, I would willingly say some- 
thing here j but being no critic in Prefaces, I 
believe I shall say nothing to the purpose. It 
is true, I might tell you, in the modern style 
of such articles, that being entirely diffident of 
my abilities, I have rather consulted the opi- 
A2 



4 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

nion of my friends than depended on my own 
judgment , and that I have even yielded with 
reluctance to their earnest and repeated solicita- 
tions. This very modest method of apology, 
however, will not answer my present purpose; 
for whatever be the real or declared opinion 
of my friends with respect to the poems before 
us, I scorn to expose either their taste or sin- 
cerity to the hazard of public animadversion. 

You must know, then, that having for 
some time past devoted my leisure hours to 
the manufacturing of the following Pieces, 
such as they are, a whim has lately got the 
possession of my brain, a sort of itching curio- 
sity, that, forsooth ! I would see how they look 
in print — -Call it vanity if you please : This, 
you know, has been the proverbial characteris- 
tic of at least nineteen-twentieths of the hair- 
brained votaries of Apollo, from the date of 
Homer's Iliad down to the limping verses and 
stammering stanzas of your humble servant. 
I would not have vou, however, to infer from 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 5 

this, that the Bards, the Barbers, and the 
Beaus, have engrossed the entire monopoly of 
this precious article ; by no means — Only look 
around you, and I am much mistaken if you 
do not observe, in the crowded and motley traia 
of this fanciful goddess, that all Europe and 
the world worship, Emperors and their officers 
of state. Lords spiritual and temporal, Doctors 
of Law, Doctors of Medicine, and Reverend 
Doctors of Divinity; " the lawn-robed Prelate^ 
the plain Presbyter, soldiers and citizens, critics 
and connoisseurs of ail sorts, sizes, and descrip- 
tions — and I can assure you, that in making 
this observation, it is no small consolation to 
me to think, that I have stumbled into such: 
distinguished company. 

I should, perhaps, in the next place, make a 
long dissertation on poetry, with biographical 
sketches of the poets, from Adam, the first (ac- 
cording to Milton), down to the present times j 
but here I find the ground so much broken* 
and intersected by the wranglings of the leara^ 

A a. 



6 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 

ed, that there is no possibility of travelling with 
any degree either of certainty or security. We 
are told, however, that poetry is a species of 
inspiration j and as I am unwilling to come 
to loggerheads with my instructors, I shall rea- 
dily admit, that the Laureate for the time be- 
ing, nay, that even a *few of our swaggering 
metropolitan Bards, may, on some very rare 
and peculiar occasions, be honoured with a vi- 
sit of the. harmonious ladies ; but for a mo- 
ment to suppose that the musical daughters of 
the immortal Jove would deign to whisper in 
the ear of a ragged Provincial, were an unpar- 
donable presumption. Happy for such if the 
greater part of their effusions are not suppo- 
sed to proceed more from the brain-crack- 
ing influence of Madam Cynthia, than the mild 
inspirations of Calliope, Clio, Erata, or Mel- 
pomene. 

With regard to the Poems before us, I shall 
say nothing, but leave it entirely to the reader 
to determine, as he gets along, whether they 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 7 

too are not some of those precious things put 
forth by the Moon. What ! you say. more 
nonsense still ; we have a very considerable 
assortment of that commodity -on hand alrea- 
dy. That, my friend, may be all very true : 
I have, nevertheless, good and substantial rea- 
sons for what I am doing. For example, if 
Doctor A. has honoured religion, embellished 
literature, and served his generation, by pub- 
lishing a volume of reverend, learned, and con- 
troversial nonsense ; while his Lordship of 
B — i — has enlightened and moralized mankind 
by volumes of lewd and lascivious nonsense, I 
can see no good reason, under heaven, why I 
may not be allowed to mimic my superior 
by publishing, at least, a small volume of 
pie and illiterate nonsense, which of all the 
three is certainly the most innocent and excu- 
sable, the more especially, considering that no 
act of Parliament exists at present against the 
publication of any species of nonsense, how- 
ever nonsensical. I confess, however* that 



111- 



8 THE AUTHOR^ APOLOGY, 

some short time ago I had very serious appre- 
hensions from that quarter ; to get clear of 
which, I found myself under the necessity of 
applying for information to a celebrated limb 
of the lawo The learned gentleman took a 
hearty laugh at the ignorance and simplicity of 
the question \ but resuming his gravity at last,. 
he told me, with the greatest composure, to 
make myself easy on that account, as the le- 
gislature had the good of the country too 
much at heart, to pass an act that would at one 
blow annihilate the most lucrative branch of 
the British revenue, I thanked my instructor, 
and retired,, reasoning thus with my myself : 
Well !; it seems there stands no legal impedi- 
ment in the way ; and if no law, no transgres- 
sion, and consequently no penalty. I shall 
therefore, having already humoured my fancy 
in composing, in the next place gratify my cu- 
riosity in publishing, and thereby gain two very 
important points, without infringing any law 
whatever^ excepting those of criticism j which^ 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY* 9 

by the bye, I have never studied, nor, till those 
gentlemen are more harmonious among them- 
selves, will I be in any unnecessary haste to 
recognize. Here Prudence presented me a 
long roll of difficulties, and what she was 
pleased to term unavoidable disasters; but find- 
ing me utterly deaf to admonition, she suggest- 
ed the propriety of at least collecting a few 
of the principal maxims of Stoicism, of which 
materials she conjured me to form a sort of 
philosophical entrenchment, whither, in cases 
of imperious necessity, I might retreat from the 
senseless clamour of the ignorant pretender, 
and the petulant impertinence of the critic, 
and where, incased with the impenitrable ar- 
mour of insensibility, I might laugh at the sha- 
king of their spear. — But I find myself getting 
sick of prose, and by the time the reader has 
got this far, I doubt not but so will he. Al- 
low me, therefore, to conclude my Preface 
with a few stanzas. 



10 THE AUTHOR^ APOLOGY. 

For want o' a Patron, 

I want room for flatt'rin' 
His^Grace in a lang dedication % 

Still the Muse thinks it proper, 

Nor wish I to stop J er, 
Frae sin gin* a short declaration. 

To all, then, concern'd 
She comes thus declaring 
, She'll court neither Whig man nor Torn 
But cronich. her sang, 
Ca't right or ca ? t wrang, 
And tell independent her story. 

Nae classic am I, 

O'er Olympus to fly 
Wi' the plunder of Homer and Horace j 

My sang's partly sung 

F my grand-mirher's tongue, 
As auld-fashion'd bards sang before us,. 

Sae dinna expect 

Am to range and ransack 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 11 

Auld Rome or the Grecian regions, 

T' insult common sense 

By importing from thence 
Their gods and goddesses in legions. 

Nor court I their groves, 

Whare the dreamin' bard roves, 
'Mang charms unacknowledg'd by Nature \ 

T' embellish our theme, 

We've a scenery at hame — 
Rome and Greece ne'er cou'd brag o' a better. 

My Helicon's Spey, 

Or the glorious Loch Tay ; 
The Grampian hills my Parnassus ; 

My Arcadian swains 

Inhabit our plains, 
And my Nymphs are the Scotch bonny lasses. 

Should I some times for fun, 

The dull mark over-run 
Wi' nonsense, or dabble in satire, 

'Tis hop'd you'll excuse 

Sickan freaks o' the Muse, 
When peevish wi' drinkin' cauld water. 



12 THE AUTHOR^ APOLOGY. 

If perchance mair sincere, 

She invokes the saft tear 
Of pity and commiseration ; 

She pleads nae excuses, 

To him that refuses 
A sigh for distress and oppression. 



POEMS, &c 



THE 

REVOLUTION OF THINGS. 



Time, like a thief, with dinless pace, 
Pursues his unremitting race 
To gain the terminating stage, 
And Nature groans with growing age— 
The golden glories of the day 
Steal on night's dark wings away. 
The rivers join their parent seas, 
The clouds evanish on the breeze ; 
The spring retires, the summer flies, 
The blossom fades, the verdure dies — 
The trees, with leafy umbrage crcwn'd, 
Chill autumn spreads their honours round ; 
B 



^4 POEMS. 

The tempest sweeps the naked plain, 
And man returns to dust again. 

Yet shall the tide again return, 
Dark night shall usher in the morn, 
The spring will come, the flowers shall bloom , 
And Nature all her charms resume. 
Alternate thus, from year to year, 
THl wheels of time stop their career ; 
And then shall peevish fretful man, 
Who's infancy with tears began, 
Complain'd through life, and died in pain; 
To life immortal start again. 



BARBARITY. 



On the Atlantic Ocean's western shores, 

When bellowing war disgorg'd her mortal stores, 

High blown the flames blaz'd furious far and wide, 

And thousands brave her gory victims died, 

A hapless youth, pierc'd by a musket ball, 



POEMS. i^> 

' Amid the bloody conflict chanced to fall *, 
While reeking from the gaping wound did flow, 

^A crimson stream that died the grass below. 
Thus helpless stretch' d upon the gory plain, 
The vital stream retreating from each vain ; 

I A hostile soldier vlew'd his forlorn state, 
And finding that the work was incomplete, 
To show the prowess of a valiant man, 
With fixed steel upon the victim ran* 

| Life's sweet. The youth engrasp'd the threat'ning point. 
Which from its place he nimbly did disjoint ; 

. For this rebuff the brute* to make amends, 
With murdering butt he batter' d out his brains. 
Six heroes more, alike for glory bound, 
Transfix' d the mangl'd carcase to the ground, 
And marled their rage with many an idle wound. 
Mars, who till now had with complacence view'd 

| The field of strife with dead and dying strew'd, 
With horror and astonishment congeal'd, 
Paus'd, and grew pale, then skulked from the v field- 
Nature, asham'd, in darkness veil'd the sun, 
And devils blush' d to see their rage outdone. 
The struggling soul her shatter'd mansion fled 
Through the wide breach their bayonets had made, 

B2 



16 POEMS. 

And, as a bird escap'd th' imprisoning cage, 
Contemn'd their malice, mock'd their feeble rage* 
Quicker than thought, to Heaven's eternal throne 
She winged her way, reported what was done. 
Th' astonished angels gazM — the heavenly choir 
Ceas'd for a while to strike the trembling lyre. 
They wept to hear a sister spirit's wrong, 
And made a pause in their immortal song. 



THE SCOTCH EMIGRANT, 

A POEM. 
WRITTEN IN NORTH AMERICA. 



happiness! charming delusion, 
Poor mortals pursue thee in vain, 
They grasp in thy stead a profusion 
Of grief disappointment, and pain. 

LuR'd by the prospect of bewitching gold, 
And happiness, the associate of wealth, 
(So folly dreams) I left my harmless flock 
And sportive lambs, to wander o'er the heath- 



POEMS* 17 

Embraced my lov'd Marina — took farewel 
Of her and all my weeping friends* and, flushed 
With hope, embark'd, weigh' d anchor, and set sail 
'For worlds remote. The eastern wind blew fair $ 
Our hardy prow snor'd through the yielding flood, 
And night, in shades, soon wrapt my native land— 
Farewel, Marina, once again farewel! 



The morning dawn'd, and oriental clouds 
Their golden wings spread o'er the dapple sky, 
^1 sprang on deck to take a parting look y 
I gaz'd around to find my native hills ; 
But all were gone, perhaps for ever gone. 
How blank the prospect ! nothing now remained: 
Save rolling seas, and wide surrounding skies — 
The rising sigh burst from my heaving breast, 
The briny tear stood stagnant in mine eye ; 
Still I repress'd the gathering flood, and turn'd 
^My hopeful thoughts on more luxuriant shores. 

Before the mild auspicious breath of heaven, 
For twenty days, twice told, we box'd the tide ; 
When, lo ! emerging from the western wave, 
Columbia's woodlands on our ravish'd eyes 

B 3 



18 POEMS. 

Arose progressive. Hail ! ye happy regions, 
Ye verdant groves, where spring, with lib'ral hand, 
Spreads all her blushing treasures to the sun, 
Where beauty blooms on every spreading tree, 
And sweet contentment smiles in every eye. 

Charmed with the scenes around, I blest the breeze 
That bore me on its wings to that fair shore, 
Where cheering Plenty fills th' industrious hand, 
And Peace, with heaven-born Liberty, resides. 
Region of love ! where gentle Hymen joins 
The youthful pair in bands of mutual bliss, 
Fearless of want, and dire domestic care, 
Nor chilling poverty debars enjoyment, 
Till first affection's ardent flame expires, 
And love be out of season. No starving wretch, 
No friendless orphan wanders here for bread, 
Nor paralysed age, with furrow'd cheek, 
Leans trem'lous over his supporting crutch, 
And with Imploring, faint and faultering voice, 
Wounds Pity's gentle ear. Alternate hours 
Of friendly converse, leisure, love, and toil, 
Of youthful frolic, mirth, and social glee, 
Pill your smooth rolling years with varying joys 



POEMS* 19 

Ye happy Columbians 

But why, my heart, amid surrounding bliss, 

And Nature rob'd in all her gaudy pride, 
TDost thou betray anxiety and care ? 

And wherefore heave that deep reluctant sigh ? 

Well might the captive Jew, by Babel streams. 

Indulge the bitter anguish of his soul, 

Inconsolate amid surrounding joy — 

His ruin'd country rushing on his heart, 

His brethren either slaughter'd or ens)av 5 d ; 
j Jerusalem, the city of his God, 

Her towers, and temple, walls and bulwarks, all 

Laid level with the ground — Far distant he 

From Zion's mountain, Jordan's verdant banks, 

From Hermon's dews, and Sharon's blushing rose 5. 

Sorrow and shame alternate in his breast 

Predominate. — No wonder that he hung 

His cheerless harp upon the willow tree, 
\ And set him down to weep, Let Afric's sons, 

Torn by the cruel and relentless hand 

Of sordid traffickers in human flesh, 

From friends and country, sold, and doom'd to waste 

A cheerless life of unavailing toil, 

In chains of hopeless servitude, complain — 



20 POEMS. 

Well may they mourn their destiny severe. 
When I, encircled with surrounding shades, 
And orchards smiling with the vernal bloom 
Of blushing Eden ; blest with health and youth, 
With plenty, friendship, liberty, and peace, 
Oft cast a look beyond the roaring wave, 
And, with an anxious overflowing heart, 
Sigh for my native land— O Scotia ! 
Dear to my heart- — for ever dear — • — but now, 
That raging storms and oceans intervene, 
Fond recollection o'er thy distant charms 
Roves with unbridl'd joy. 

Ye airy mountains, whose aspiring tops 
Pierce the thick clouds ; ye long extending lawns | f 
Ye verdure eover'd banks, kiss'd by the streams 
That roll majestic from their parent hills, 
Or softly murmur through the flowery vale ; 
Ye roaring cataracts and tingling rills ; 
Ye headlong torrents, and ye echoing glens, 
That rung responsive to my shepherd's horn, 
A long farewel — -ye happy scenes adieu ! 
Dear scenes of truth, simplicity, and peace, 
Of love and joy, ere care had yet besieg'd 



POEMS. 

This throbing, cheerless, ever anxious breast — 
Remote from you, and every witching charm 
|That ties poor mortals to their native soil ; 

'From youthful playmates and endearing friends m , 
Marina, and from thee, enchanting maid ! 
When thy lov'd image presses on my soul, 
Oft, midst the bustle of the sportive throng, 
The silent tear steals down my joyless cheek. 

My new acquaintance marvel why I weep, 
And kindly try each sympathetic art 
To cheer my drooping soul. Alas ! my friends, 
You cannot trace the spring of these my tears ; 
If e'er, like me, you tread some distant shore, 
Then will you learn the cause of my complaint, 
Your hearts wnTbeat in unison with mine. 

Ye philosophic sages, deeply versed 
In all the windings of the human heart ; 
Ye who, with Reason's mattock grub the roots 
Of each invet'rate local prejudice 
And puerile impression — you can tell 
What charm will cure imaginary grief — 
This mock distemper claims some powerful dose* 



22 POEMS. 

Say, can the smoothing edge of wearing time 
Eraze the image of departed joys ? 
Or will ideal evils only yield 
To real pain ? 

The dog-star rages. By the sun exhaled 
Malignant vapours rise, a putrid steam 
Steals on the sultry breeze, and scatters deaths 
"With all its dire concomitants, around. 
The yellow demon of mortality 
Rides in pale triumph o'er the crowded scene j 
Destruction wastes at large, and in his train, 
With sullen step, Depopulation stalks. 
Dread consternation reigns, and all the ties 
Of pity, friendship, gratitude, and love, 
Burst like a thread smit by the burning flame* 
The sound of labour ceases, and the voice 
Of mirth and festive joy are heard no more^ 
Horror pervades, and silence hovers round, 
Save when the rattling of the funeral car * 



* Such, at one period, was the mortality occasioned by the yellow 
fever at New ^ork, that five carrs, constantly employed by the office of 
health, were not sufficient to remove the dead to the place of interment; 
and such the consternation of the inhabitants, that some of the princU 
pal streets were literally deserted* 



POEMS. 23 

Transmits the summons to the sick man's ear, 
Prelusive of his fate. Ah ! who can live 
JVhere every stream of health, and spring of life, 
Is poison' d by infection's noxious breath, 
And death inhal'd with every draught of air. 
The terrified inhabitants retreat, 
In all directions, like a routed host 
That flies for safety from the slaughtering sword. 
But where, ah ! where shall wretchedness procure 
An asylum, when Pity's tender heart 
fls shut, and Friendship's hospitable door 
^Secur'd with bars of jealousy and fear. 

My kindest friend and dear companion fell, 
A bloated victim in the general wreck. 
I fled, aghast, nor lingering look'd behind, 
But, terror hunted, held my trackless course, 
Till, far removed, dejected and forlorn, 
I set me down on Susquahannah's banks, 
And pour'd my sorrows to the murmuring stream. 
Alas, how chang'd ! whither has beauty fled ? 
Ye lovely groves that pleas'd so much of late, 
Where now are all your charms ? Ye please ne more. 
A cliurch-yard drear pervades the sylvan scene,, 



I 



24 POEMS. 

And every object to my jaundiced eye 
Seems dark and doleful, like my cheerless soul ; 
I wander pensive through the spreading trees, 
Whose leafy umbrage shades me from the sun 5 
I stop and listen for the blackbird's song- — 
I stop again ; 'tis vain, no bird sings here, 
No cheerful note, dumb silence reigns around, 
Save the woodpecker, who, with hardy bill, 
Assiduous rattles on the hollow tree. 

Ye western winds, ye Asiatic gales * 5 
That waft the odours of Columbia's woods, 
And in your trans-atlantic airy flight 
Wake the rude surges, that exhaust their rage 
On Scotia's rocky shores — Bear on your wings 
The warmest wishes of a filial heart, 
Transmit the anguish of a wretch, pursued 
By death from every haunt of social life 5 
A wretch that longs to leave this land of graves, 
And, with the fondness of a wandering child, 



* This may perhaps seem rather paradoxical to some readers ; it will 
cease to be so, when we consider, that the eastern coast of Asia is separat- 
ed from the western shore of America, only by a comparatively narrow 
channel. 



POEMS. 25 



Pants for his kindred skies, his native air, 
Where, rarefied and pure, the mountain breeze 
Salubrious fans the purple stream of life, 
And blythsome health, with rosy dirnpl'd check, 
Comes triping barefoot o'er the dewy grass. 



CALEDONIA. 

A SONG. 
Tune — cc Erin go Bragh." 

Caledonia ! my country, thy rivers, and fountains, 
And green fertile Tallies, exulting, I sing; 
How pleasant thy sweet blooming moorlands and moun- 
tains, 
When dress'd in'the gaudy profusion of spring ? 
When fann'd by, the soft summer sea-breeze, thy shore'is; 
Whenflocks bleat aroundus, and woods pour their chorus, 
And mild morning beams gild the landscape before us 
All sparkling with dew-drops- 1 — how charming the scene! 

Healthy thy clime is, of mild temperature. 

Remote from the rage of the Polar extremes, 

And distant from regions, where languishing Nature 



2 ^ POEMS* 

Melts in the blaze of the sun 3 s torrid beams 

Happy land ! Where no raging volcanoes are roaring, 
Where no serpents hiss, no fell monster devouring, 
No clouds stor'd with death, in thy horizon lowring, 
Nor pestilence floats on thy wind's breezy wing. 

While, daring and prudent, thy sons fill their stations, 

Scarce equall'd in arts, and unrivail'd in arms ; 

For learning thy fame still resounds through the nations \ 

And peerless thy daughters in virtue and charms. 

From times unrecorded, thy freedom descended, 

Through ages of heroes, whose valour defended 

Thy Charters — while foes saw their vengeance expended 

Against thy wild mountains and borders in vain. 

Be plenty, my Country, and peace thy possession, 
And freedom's bright sunbeams illume thy fair day, 
Ar?d far from thy shores be all want and oppression ; 
While virtue's bold streams sweep corruption away ; 
May friendship unite, and may love, and affection, 
And reason, thy children exalt to perfection \ 
To guard thy iov'd shores be thy strength and protec- 

tionj 
While time rolls his ages unnumber'd away. 



POEMS. 21 

THE MECHANIC ; 

OR, 

:he progress of the arts 

AND THE 

STATE OF THE ARTISAN. 

A POEM, IN THREE PARTS. 



Ye friends of truth, ye statesmen who survey 
T' e rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay 
*Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand 
Between a splendid and a happy land. Goldsmith. 



Of Kings, and those denominated great, 
Peers, Princes, Heroes, Ministers of state, 
Let laurel'd bards in high resounding verse, 
The names august, and glorious acts rehearse j 
Extoli their virtues, and their fame, extend 
Till way-worn time o'er his last crutches bend— 
My muse, afraid to trust her feeble wing 
On such exalted themes, yet fond to sing, 
Contents herself with an inferior strain. 
Descriptive of a humbler class of men — 

C2 



2B 



POEMS* 



A class obscure, whose low penurious lot 
Forbids the honours of armorial coat, 
The proud Escutcheon, and the sounding name,. 
The Charter, the hereditary claim, 
To dezds of wonder by ancestors done ; 
Or large estates transferr'd from sire to son- 
Industry all their patrimonial dower, 
Altho' themselves the origin of power, 
And source of wealth ; altho' their toil and sweat 
Oils the careering mighty wheels of state,- 
Gives form to chaos, energy to law— 
A nation's Alpha they and Omega. 
Of such my song. — Invention, and of thee, 
Clear sighted daughter of Necessity, 
To whose unwearied efforts mankind owe 
The sum of all that they possess or know. 

In ages past, exceedingly remote, 
"When savage man, and wild wood monsters fought 
For the dominion of the dreary waste, 
And vanquished foes became the victor's feast : 
Then to the recess of a sheltering wood, 
Freezing with cold, and famishing for food* 



J>OEMS, 9.9 

With look dejected, and emaciate form, 
A shivering savage hied him from the storm. 
His spirit, strength, and resolution gone, 
And Hope, with all her flowery prospects flown \ 
No needful succour, friend, or shelter nigh 5 
Resign'd to fate, he laid him down to die. 
The soothing magic of resistless sleep 
Did over his enfeebl'd senses creeps 
And, while he slumber'd on his moss cold bed y- 
A thunder-storm burst dreadful o'er his head — 
The savage wak'd, while from the jarring clouds 
Peal hur.'d on peal, resounded through the woods, 
And heaven's dark arch'd aerial expance 
D'd with red streams of darting lightnings glance— 
Wild, gazing on the agitated skies, 
The opening clouds, to his astonisbAl eyes, 
Unve I'd the gh:ry and the graceful form 
Of lovely Ceres, thron'd amid the storm— 
A radiant crown of stars adorn'd her brow 3 
Her mantle, ting'd like the ethetiai bow, 
With azure zone, that to her naked waist 
The Sonting folds of her loose robe comprest ; 
A shining plowshare in one hand was borne, 
While in the other wav'd a sheaf of corn— « 

C3 



50 POEMS. 

O'er aH her charms, with admiration gaz'd 
The savage, quite confounded and amaz'd ; 
When, lo ! the goddess from her throne aloof 
Bespoke him thus, in language of reproof — 

Unhappy man ! the wood traversing herd 
With thee, in folly, cannot be compared ; 
Instinct their guide, they readily supply 
Their various wants, where you must starve and die £ 
Reason, not instinct, thy directing ray \ 
Then why thy reason idly cast away ? • 
Mark how the spring the ruin'd year renews. 
Behold the rain drops and descending dews, 
How these call forth the vegetable birth, 
From the prolific pregnant womb of earth, 
Whose fertile vales in vain call for the hand 
Of an industrious hardy husbandman; 
Whilst thou, to int'rest blind, and pleasure both, 

Flod*s to thy grave in wretchedness and sloth « 

Be wise at last : Upon some fertile spot 

Erect thyself a comfortable cot 5 

Cut dowft the trees, grub up the stones and roo f s % 

Sow, plant, and thou shalt shortly reap the fruits v 



POEMS, 31 

With resolution cultivate the soil, 

And yellow harvest shall reward thy toil. 

Thus spake the goddess, when a sable cloud 
Did, with its wings, her majesty enshrowd. 
Hope in his breast regain'd a place supreme^ 
And fear evanish' d like a morning dream. 

o 

Imagination painted to his view 
A scene of pleasures altogether new— 
A sheit'ring cot, a comfortable home, 
"Where he, forlorn and cheerless, wont to roam, 
And meadows green, with waving fields of corn 
On river banks, ere while o'er-run with thorn- 
He left the chace with expectation high, 
And hunter's life for that of husbandry. 

His rising prospects to exertion spur'd, 
And happy seasons, suns, and showers, concur^. 
With the exertion of his nervous arm, 
T' improve the soil, and fertilize the farm. 

Industry thus pursued her onward course 5 
And art supplied deficiency of force* 



g§ POEMS, 

Fann'd by her magic breath the furnace glows, 
And iron ore a liquid torrent flows, 
Whence anvils, axes, augers, hammers, saws, 
Their forms assume obedient to her laws, 
With other tools, by which her sons produce 
All articles of elegance and use. 

Art and Industry thus in league combin'd, 
The head and hands in close alliance join'd \ 
Their joint commands the elements obey, 
And stubborn Nature owns the powerful sway ; 
The seas, obsequious, yield their finny stores, 
While vegetation blooms along the shores j 
Luxuriant crops reward the farmer's toil, 
And all around him dreary deserts smile — 
Nor courts Industry here inglorious rest ; 
Now through the marsh, the wild and pathless waste. 
High ways are cut, and for J less foaming tides, 
The sweeping arch with majesty bestrides •, 
The woods are cleared, obdurate rocks are riven,- 
And cities raise their gUtt'firig spires to heaven, 
Where splendid domes and sacred temples -rise, 
And Art her varied occupation piles. 



POEMS. i 

Time from the world race after race removes $ 
Yet this the stock of knowledge still improves $ 
To that possess'd by generations gone, 
The race succeeding proudly add their own - f 
Hence every age that in its course departs, 
Extends the roll of sciences and arts— 
But where to bound Invention's airy wing, 
Be that the task of wiser bards to sing. 
Mean while, with eagle penetrating eye, 
Science invades the empire of the sky, 
"With genial fire sublim'd and upward driven, 
She grasps the vast geography of heaven ; 
Marks the dimensions of the stars, their stations, 
Their number, motions, laws, and regulations — 
Still pressing on, with scientific gaze, 
Where other sufis 'mid other systems blaze, 
And rising orbs on her observance steal, 
Till even her telescopic vision fail, 
Nor light affords more distant worlds to trace, 
That speck the ocean of unbounded space. 

Nor earth's broad surface, nor the worlds on high 3 
Engage exclusive her all-piercing eye. 



04- POEMS. 

The latent depth of ocean she explores, 
And to the sun-beam spreads his pearly stores™ 
Earth's midnight womb in vain attempts to hide 
Her orey treasure, and her sparkling pride. 
To grasp the wealth in these dark vaults confin'd, 
By Natures- hand in mercy to mankind-; 
Through interposing rocks Art works her way, 
And drags the slumbering demon into day : 
Hence glitt'ring Mammon issues from the mint, 
With charms supreme and powers omnipotent. 

What words can paint, what numbers shall I iind, 
To sing the mighty progress of the mindy 
The deep abyss of human comprehension, 
With all the works and wonders of invention ? 
Only for which we'd still some barren shore 
Or desert rang'd, where forest monsters roar, 
Naked and hungry, void of laws and arts, 
Like prowling wolves, with hard unfeeling hearts, 
Or like New Zealand cannibals, for food 
Perhaps devour'd our kindred flesh and blood. 

What mighty change ! No longer men dispute 
With hungry bears the vegetable root ; 



POEMS. 35 

Now social life exhibits all her charms, 
And friendship stands, with her expanded arms — - 
The vernal soft distilling dews descend, 
And Nature smiles like paradise regainM ; 
ffiv'n winter's hostile skies seem less severe, 
Since mellow harvest crowns the hopeful year — 
The vales with herds, the hills are clad with sheep ; 
While o'er the surface of the spacious deep, 
Increasing commerce spreads her canvas wings, 
And treasures issue from ten thousand springs. 

Then say, my Muse, can poverty be found 
[Where countless heaps of treasure circle round ? 

Can he that purveys the luxuriant feast 

Be circumscribed, so as scarce to taste ? 

And is not, then/ the industrious lab'ring man, 
'The hardy hind, the curious artizan, 

Whose hands contribute to augment the stores 

That fill our shops, and occupy our shores \ 

Himself supplied with what is competent 
N To screen old age from penury and want. 

Strange it may seem, yet not more strange than true, 

The sweets of wealth are tasted but by few — 

Witness in every age the lab'ring mass, 

As they from youth to age and wrinkles pass. 



36 POEMS, 



PART II. 

From yonder area, where the noisy crowd 
Of boys their recreations are allow'd, 
Young Tyro, having reach'd the age of ten, 
Must now retire and learn the arts of men. 
His friends convene ; 'tis instantly agreed, 
And by indenture sealed and ratified, 
That he, for seven long tedious years to come, 
Must ply the shuttle and the jingling loom ; 
Perhaps the shears and needle, or the awl, 
Or what trade else may to his fortune falh 

Of books and school he takes a long farewel, 
Pejok'd to think no lessons now to spell j 
His heart, meantime, exulting in the view 
Of ent'ring on his occupation new. 
The awkward youth begins to ply his trade; 
But soon observes, suspended, o'er his head, 
The little tyrant's fault-correcting rod ; 
He dreads its weight, and trembles at his nod— 



POEMS. 37 

And now, alas ! to youthful recreation 

Long hours succeed of irksome application y 

For freedom gone inconsolate he mourns, 

And vacant joy that never more returns ; 

But tears are vain — Ah ! nothing now can prop 

His sinking heart but all-supporting Hope, 

'Tis this alone must smooth the rugged way 

To yon far distant liberating day. 

The streams of time run silent and profound, 

Year after year its weary course rolls round y 

At last the sun illumes the glorious day, 

That breaks the chain, and sets the captive free. 

As some poor slave escap'd the tyrant's rage, 
Or as a bird, broke from th 5 imprisoning cage, 
Perch'd on the branch of some sequcster'd tree, 
Triumphant sings her song of liberty — 
The joyful youth from servitude releas'd, 
Above the cares of life his spirits rais'd, 
His happy hours roll on in thoughtless joy, 
Nor dreads he storms that shortly must destroy 
The unruffl'd calm, and on his heart obtrude 
The eating canker of solicitude. 

D 



33 POEMS* 

Melissa's eyes, and love's enflaming dart. 
Now pierce his soul, and captivate his heart j 
The pleasing torment haunts him in his dreams, 
And anxious care proceeds from rival claims ; 
For shou'd he lose the idol of his soul, 
What can on earth his bkeding heart console ? 

Not Peru's gold, nor India's precious stone- ■ 

Melissa lost, he's utterly undone. 

With fault'ring tongue he tells his tender tale, 

Doubtful his simple suit may not prevail. 

The blushing maid, on frivolous pretence, 

Still hangs his fate in trembling suspense, 

With artful guile seems shy, and stands aloof, 

Till she obtain a satisfying proof 

Of love sincere.— 'Tis done, and now at last 

The hour of his anxiety is past, 

The yielding fair, with all her virgin charms, 

Sinks in her raptur'd lover's clasping arms. 

Luxuriant bliss ! Ye apathetic few 

Suspend your mirth ; such bless ye never knew. 

Yet such the state of sublunary joys,' 
That every pleasure has its counterpoise, 



Ev'n from the roots of happiness below 
Fell thorns spring, and piercing sorrows grow. 
Yes, happy pair ! economy and health, 
And love and labour constitute your wealth, 
Full certain, then, and probably too soon, 
Domestic cares will mar your honey-moon. 

As two fond turtles, tenants of the grove, 
"With works of labour mingle works of love, 
And gathering moss, by ruling instinct led, 
Prepare their nest, their matrimonial bed — 
Devoid as they of each prerequisite 
That partial fortune heaps upon the great, 
To their new state our lovers bend their care, 
Intent to fill the blanks too obvious there. 
Fond to succeed, they toil, with virtuous pride, 
And by degrees their furniture provide. 
Hope sheds a smile upon the prospect drear, 
And Love impels them still to persevere \ 
While Hymen crowns them, onward as they move, 

With many a pledge of matrimonial love. 

Still new-born joys for new exertions call ; 
And labour now does every hour enthral. 

D2 



40 POEMS* 

New cares arise, and multiplied demands 

Bid fair to mock the efforts of their hands. 

Yet love parental makes their labours light, 

And fond affection even their cares delight ; 

Pleased with their lot, if bounteous heaven but grants 

A competence for their essential wants. 

Around the table, how it glads their eyes, 

Like thriving plants to see their children rise j 

Or, when the tedious hours of toil expire, 

To hear their prattle, mark the. fond desire, 

The rival wiles and artless emulation, 

To gain .hat envied happy situation, 

Like crowns and sceptres priz'd— the father's knee \ 

Like these, too, oft the cause of jealousy. 

Let grandeur scorn, let wealthly fools despise 

All joys, save those from opulence that rise, 

Forsaking real, hunt ideal bliss 

Through .Fancy's maze ; and yet for ever miss | 

While honest poverty, untaught to roam 

From Nature's path> finds happiness at home, 

But now thick clouds of darkness overspread 
The horizon of commerce and of trad?. 



POEMS. 



Anon the tempest roars on every side, 
And scatters devastation far and wide. 
'The cautious bank to trade small support brings ; 
Hence ill-pois'd speculators' waxen wings 
At once give way — They tumble to the ground. 
And in their fall spread ruin all around. 
Day after day new bankruptcies appear, 
FilM on the columns of the Gazetteer. — 
The loom stands still, the mason drops his trowel^ 
And Dissipation views his empty bowl. 
All operation utterly destroy'd, 
The poor mechanic wanders unemployed f: 



f In the present improved state of agriculture, fewer hands are em- 
ployed in that department than formerly. Owing partly to this cir- 
cumstance, but chiefly to the monopolizing spirit of individuals, who, 
(as it is elsewhere expressed) add house to house, and field to field, 
the poor cottager has been obliged to relinquish his humble habita- 
tion, the place of his birth, the happy theatre of his youthful transac- 
tions, and perhaps the residence of his humble progenitors, bid adieu 
to his acquired habits of rural industry, simplicity, and solitude, and 
take shelter amid the smoke and noise of some manufacturing town, 
the only remaining asylum, whithei the ruin'd outcast of agriculture 
can retreat. Hence cities are crowded and enlarged, the air conta- 
minated with disease ; while the price of provisions and accommoda- 
tion are enhanced to that degree, that, even in the best of times, the 
operative mechanic, whatever be his industry or economy, seldom 
has it in his power to provide against an evil day. The consequeaee 

D 3 



42 POEMS. 

Besieg'd with want, their clothes are laid in pledge 

For bread, their children's hunger to asswage ; 

The term comes round, to still the landlord's clamour. 

Their little all devoted to the hammer 5 

And lest their ruin still be incomplete, 

By ill-tim'd rigour tumhl'd to the street. 

Ye, who have hearts of softer stuff than stone, 
Who feel and sigh for sorrows not your own — 
Ye fathers, whose paternal bosoms glow, 
Mark this sad scene of wretchedness and woe — 
A virtuous wife, a loving mother drown'd 
In tears, while starving children weep around ! 
See in the father's countenance exprest 
The agony that labours in his breast ; 
He strives to sooth their grief with w r ords of hope* 
But his swoln heart obliges him to stop, 
Retire, and seek relief in change of place, 
And hide the tear that stains his manly face ! 
Nor you, whose comforts never cease to flow, 
Think here the Muse exaggerates their woe, 

is, that an extraordinary dearth, but especially a general stagnation of 
trade, opens, in the couree of a few weeks, a scene of suffering not to 
he described. 



POEMS, 43 

This partial sketch wants limits to express 
Even the bare outlines of their wretchedness. 

Sweet to the eye the dawn of morning lights 
After a tedious, dark, and dismal night ; 
But sweeter still, to miserable men, 
Is the return of pleasure after pain. 
In this precarious shifting scene of things, 
One changing moon strange alteration brings; 
Our pleasures perish like a shower-sprung river — 
Not Sorrow's self is permanent for ever — 
And now again, that Commerce moves along, 
[ Our artisan resumes his work and song. 
But, ah ! what toil and arduous application, 
Ere he regain his former situation, 
Restock his empty wardrobe, and provide 
What articles the late reverse destroyed. 

Meantime his tender offspring rise apace, 
And lend their feeble aid, His hopes increase, 
Joyful, he thinks a few more years once gone, 
His cares will vanish, and his toil be done. 
Silent and smooth the fleeting years depart, 
And joy regains his grief-forsaken heart, 



44 POEMS. 

While round the fire he eyes his hopeful race, 
With happiness express'd in every face. 
Virtuous industry their apparent choise, 
Their minds unstain : d with principles of vice; 
His hope, prophetic, warm'd by fond desire, 
Foresees the son far happier than the sire. 
Delightful change ! The now much alter'd scene 
(The storm dispersM) looks placid and serene — 
His hardships past, his happiness begun, 
Nor clouds he dreams shall veil his evening sun. 

But, hark ! the trumpet sounds — war's loud alarms 
From works of peace call nations into arms \ 
From shore to shore the horrid clamour rings, 
And every cord of trade and commerce springs, 
The scene grows darker than it was before, 
And ruin knocks at the mechanic's door. 

Long had he borrow'd happiness from Hope, 
And oft been disappointed. Now the prop 
Of his old age, his sons, indignant spurn 
A situation every wind can turn j 
They drop their tools, and glittVing swords unsheath 
On distant fields, where war'js dread engines breathe 



POEMS. 

Blue streams of fire, and horrid bolts of death : 
Or in pursuit, perhaps, of needful gain, 
They brave the rage of the tempestuous main, 
In hopes, at last, with necessary stores 
lEnrich'd, to reach their envied native shores. 
With cheerful heart they plough the roaring seas, 
And homeward scud before th' auspicious breeze. 
At last the happy port stands full in view, 
When, lo ! they're boarded by the tender's crew, 
Drag'd into scenes where hostile navies ride, 
And blood and carnage dyes th' ensanguin'd tide, 

The mother weeps, the pensive father mourn| 
His children gone, that never may return, 
I His boding heart anticipates their woes, 
And now farewel to nights of sweet repose, 
I Through scenes of danger and tumultuous noise* 
I Their anxious dreams pursue the darling boys, 



46 POEkSe 



PART III. 

Like yonder ancient solitary oak, 
Stript of its leaves, with all its branches broke, 
Exhibiting its mutilated form, 
On the lone heath, exposed to every storm, 
He enters now on life's last dreary stage, 
With all the dire concomitants of age, 
On either side beset, front, flanks, and rear, 
And no retreat — Ah ! destiny severe — 
His strength exhausted, and his children gone, 
He left behind to combat all alone ; 
A gathering host of complicated woes, 
Whose strength, as his declines, progressive grows, 
Ev'n friends desert the day of his distress, 
And life becomes a load of wretchedness ! 

Ye generous friends of equitable laws, 
Who darM to plead th' insulted Negro's cause 
Against the power of blinding prejudice, 
Enslaving wealth, and sordid, avarice — 



POEMS. 47 

'Twas kindly done, 'twas glorious thus to stand 
And wrest the scourge from the oppressor's hand; 
When ages shall have roil'd their mighty round, 
f And Negroes' foes are nowhere to be found, 
ipieir names consign'd to dark oblivious gloom, 
Your fame shall flourish in unfading bloom — 
But; ah ! while yet across th' Atlantic wave, 
Winds waft the sighs of the dejected slave, 
And your kind hearts with pity overflow, 
Reserve a tear for home-born grief and woe *, 



^ * I would not be understood here, as if I wished, in the least, to 
appreciate the exertions of those gentlemen, who so laudably be- 
friended humanity, by their persevering endeavours to abolish the 
slave trade; I would merely insinuate, that, distressing as the situation 
of the African slave undoubtedly is, still the circumstances of the 
aged poor, especially in a commercial country, present a rival claim 
to the feelings of the benevolent and the humane, and that, in this 
age of improvement, of philanthropy, and progressive civilization, 
there is certainly ground to hope, that the time is fast approaching, 
; vhen the condition of this venerable, though unhappy class of men, 
will be deemed of sufficient importance to engage the attention of 
^he legislature. 
^* The soldier, exhausted with age and fatigue in the service of his 
country, is provided for, though he has never received a wound ; 
and, in consideration of his service, is highly entitled to such provi- 
sion : And shall the aged citizen, who in the course of a long, labo- 
rious, and useful life, has contributed to the necessities of the state ; 
»et an example of virtuous industry, and perhaps reared a numerous 



% 



48 POEMS. 

With one commiserating sigh dispense, 

To sooth the child of age and indigence : 

When morning sheds her beams, behold him creep 

From his hard couch, whence kind refreshing sleep 

Afrighted flies — See how he pants for breath, 

And how his limbs are trembling beneath 

A shatter'd frame, worn down to skin and bone, 

A meagre, pale, and ghastly skeleton ! 

Mark how the staff shakes in his palsied hand, 

When he, at stern necessity's command, 

Steps forth — not to the fields for purer breath, 

But to the shop, to work himself to death ! 

What ! could not his long life of labour past, 
Secure old age a moment's ease at last, 
An hour for calm reflection ere he dies ? 
No ! his hard lot the paltry boon denies, 
The oil of life, spent to the latest dreg, 
No strength for work, nor confidence to beg, 
Ev'n flatt'ring Hope, from her last station driven, 
Quits hold of earth, and points away to heaven. 

family, to replenish the vacancies in society, or the occasional blanks 
in the naval and military departments of his country— be deemed less 
eligible to public gratitude ? 



POEMS. 

TSiiither are all his happy prospects gone; 
For pleasure now the world affords him none, 
Unless a transient gleam suffuse his face, 
When he beholds his certain resting place — 
The grave, to which his weary footsteps bend, 
And where his painful pilgrimage shall end. 

Ye happier sons of affluence and ease, 
In whose fair domes Want never show'd his face, 
Your only toil to kill the ling'ring hour, 
Whose listless languor all your comforts sour, 
How could ye bear to rise by dawn of day, 
Swing the unwieldy scythe through fields of hay, 
Drain the morass, rid the encumber'd ground 
Of stones, and dig the guardian ditch around, 
Thus ply your strength beneath the scorching sun, 
Or bitter blast, till irksome day be done, 
Toil with the hind, and with him likewise share 
His frugal, plain, but oft times scanty fare ? 

Or would you rather leave the rugged farm 
For pop'lous towns, where pale mechanics swarm? 
Then take the hammer, make the anvil ring, 
And the red bolt to form and fashion bring, 

E 



SO POEMS. 

Till heat and toil your every nerve unbrace, 

And smut Japan the roses of your face— 

Or try your patience in yon musty cell, 

Where stagnant air and sickly vapours dwell, 

Debar*d the sun and salutary breeze, 

Where weavers pine and die by slow degrees, 

Weave the soft texture with assiduous care, 

And. in proportion as you labour, fare— 

Gould vou live thus ? Ah ! you could scarcely breathe j 

The verv thought .were terrible as death. 

Then cease, henceforth, your ling'ring hours to chide, 

And 'ease the sons of labour to deride 5 

For let me whisper softly in your ear, 

Jn wealth alone they're your inferior^ 

Their powers of thought, their feelings as acute, 

Nor more than you are these allied to brute ; 

As pure their morals, their connections, too, 

As dear to them as ycur's can be to you ; 

And though still poor, whate'er their faults or flaws, 

Nor sloth nor wild extravagance the cause — 

But why hard toil so small a boon bestows, 

And why the mountain with convulsive throes 

Still groans in labour, rnereiy to produce 

A reptile vile, or solitary mouse, 



POEMS. 51 



&ome happier Bard may yet attempt to sing, 
And trace these hardships to their native spring. 



THE BACHELOR. 



Down in a valley green and gay, 
Upo' the flow'ry banks o* Tay, 
A place renown'd in ancie it story 
For feats of arms and martial glory, 
An' still for lassies blythe an' bonny, 
An* clever duel's can rank wi* dny j 
Twas there, ae angry winter morn, 
The hero o' our tale was born. 
Th' elements began to rage 
Just as he enter'd on the stage, 
Auld Nic wad neither haud nor bind 
That day, but rag'd an* raised the wind ; 
Wi's breath, astonishing to tell, 
He melted down the parish bell, 
He pecht and blew, 1 11 wi* a jirk, 
The riggin started aff the kirk, 
E2 



52 POEMS. 

The steeple shook, an' mair betoken, 
The very kirkyard trees ware broken, 
Their crashin' roots, and startin' tapens, 
Tore up the graves, an' left them apen, 
And spread death's subterranean stores 
Like wrecks bestrew' d alang the shores. 
Sure mortal ne'er saw sic a rnornin* 
As that the bachelor was born in. 

Although it was his father's pleasure, 
To ca' his young son Ebenezer, 
The priest, hem' either drunk or crazy, 
Mistook an' ca'd him Trapinezie •, 
And sae sal we. His carefu' mammy 
Sae petti'd up her bonny lammy 
Wi* sugar cakes an' butter'd baps, 
That Trap ne'er had a match, perhaps, 
Sae round an* plump, gash and auldfarren, 
An' for a sonsy thrivin' bairn. 

His father's hope, his mither's joy, 
They idoiiz'd the charmin' boy, 
Their only son, an' hopefu' heir 
To twa three hunder pounds a-year. 



POEMS. S3 



His partial mam could soon descry 
The fire o 9 genius in his eye ; 
An', fond to rank him wi' his betters, 
Designed him for a man o* letters. 
The squire was early sent to school ; 
But Nature meant him for a fool. 
Hence a' their trouble, care, and cost, 
An' labour, was entirely lost. 
Like draws to like ; and sae did Trap, 
An' early learnt to take his cap, 
An* wi' the blackguards o' the town, 
Curs'd an* carous'd like a dragoon. 
His favourite drink was whisky toddy , 
His fav'rite sang was linkumdoddie * 9 
He play'd the fiddle to a hair, 
An' dane'd like ony German bear ; 
Besides, the clash gaed round on Trap, 
That he, forsooth, cou'd cure the c 



This made his room, at private hours, 

An' hospital o' rakes an' w s. 

O* Venus' fire the bauld progression 
"Was check'd by his cool operation, 
Yet only smoor'd the ignus fata's ; 
What, syne his skill an* drugs ware gratis, 
ES 



54 POEMS. 

And, prudently to save their noses. 
He gae them rank mercurial doses, 
That made their grinders in a trice, 

To rattle like a box o' dice. 

This far on birth an' education ; 
Next o' the gear in Trap's possession, 
We'll try to take an inventory, 
An' then proceed to tell a story, 



THE BACHELOR'S INVENTORY, 



Or rusty iron ha'f a ton, 
A broken fiddle an' a gun ; 
A fav'rite bitch, an' add to that 
Three spotted kitlins an' a cat ; 
Of ducks an' drakes aught, nine, or ten*> 
A bantam cock an' bantam hen, 
A linton ram, a Shetland ewe, 
Ten rabbits an' a breedin' sow. 

Next for his roll o' hardware store— =• 
Twa pistols an' a lang clymore, 



POEMS. 55 

Straps, razors, awls, lasts, shears, and shuttles, 
Wi' planes, an' axes, drugs, an* bottles, 
An' tools o* a' denominations, 
That fit an' answer a' professions. 

An', lastly, birds of ilka feather, 
Wild tenants o' the woods an' heather, 
That sing at mornin', night, or noon ; 
Here lavricks chaunt, an* houlets croon ; 
The moorcock, petrick, an' pee- weep, 
Wi' birds that through the winter sleep, 
Swallows, etcetra, an' sea-maws, 
Gleds, gowks* an* hawks, an' hodicraws, 
A whiperwill, a chatterin' pye, 
An eagle frae the isle o' Sky— - 
And scores that time forbids to enter> 
As we're in haste for an adventure. 



THE BACHELOR'S LOVE ADVENTURE. 

Ye rantin' blades an' rovin' billies, 
That range like nags 'mang moorland fillies? 



56 POEMS. 

And frighted at the bands o* Hymen, 
Wad to a wife prefer a leman, 
In hopes your errors ye may rue> 
I dedicate this tale to you. 

'Twas Sunday morn, an* Jammie C 

Had set the preachhi' bells a jowin' ; 

The bonny lassies^ dink an' smirk, 

Fu' clean an* tosh, were gaun te kirk, 

An' beaus in crowds, when esquire Trap 

Awaken'd frae his whisky nap. 

He scratch'd his head, syne roar'd like thunder 

For drink — his heart was like a cinder; 

Bern' fu' last night, 'twas little wonder. 

His mither hearin' came fu' clever, 

Wi' beer to cool his hurnin' liver; 

An 7 lest the cauld shou'd wrang his soles, 

A blanket, warm'd o'er blazin' coals 

Wi' meikle care, the matron spread 

Upo' the floor afore his bed. 

At sight o' this, the squire made bauld 

To venture on December's cauld, 

Devour'd his breakfast, then his dress 

Adjusted at the looking-glass ; 



POEMS. 

And finding a* thing right and tight, 
On wings of ardent love took flight, 
Enjoyin' by anticipation, 
The fruits o' last night's assignation — 
For Trap an' his dear doxy Mary, 
In love affairs ware wond'rous wary. 

The family had gaen halesale 
Te kirk, left Mall to mat* the kail j 
Trap soon arriv'd, and lovely Miss 
Receiv'd him wi' a gracious kiss, 
Invited him to some good cheer j 
Syne tel-lin' him the coast was clear, 
The lovin' pair sat down bedeen j 
But, ah ! the blinks o' Mary's een— 
What eatin', drinkin' courtin', scornin', 
Trap spent a very happy forenoon, 
Till that sour lippet jade Mischance^ 
Enrag'd at ilka rapt'rous glance, 
Of mischief open'd up her store. 
Hark ! the guideman raps at the door — 
Ungracious knock ! Now buxom Mary, 
Look sharp and hide your dautet deary , 



58 POEMS* 

For gin he's seen here, let me tell ye, 
'Twill be the warst thing e'er befel ye. 

Miss, faster than you cou'd suppose it, 
Conceal'd her lover in a closet, 
Whare coals were kept — There sweet Adonis, 
The prince o' fools an* macaronies, 
'Mang coals an' cobwebs, bugs an' clocks, 
Stood pent as in a sentry-box. 

Mall, thus relieved frae doubts an' dangers, 
Admitted her unwelcome strangers, 
Wha lovingly sat down to dinner, 
Unconscious o* the closet sinner ; 
But Miss, as wicked luck wad hae't, 
Was sent a lang Scots mile o' gate 
An errand. Meantime, Trap within 
Durst hardly breathe for makin* din, 
Nor durst he stir, no, for his heart's blude, 
Mair than he'd been a lump o* logwood. 
At last, poor chiel*, his legs grew weary, 
Nor langer dought their burden carry ; 
But edgin' round to shift his place, 
In hopes, nae doubt, o' getting ease, 



POEMS. 59 

To his amazement and dismay, 

The coals whareon he stood gave way, 

An* like far distant thun'er rummelin', 

The frighted squire and them cam' tum'lin 

Against the door— sic was the vengeance, 

He burst the bolt an' baith the hinges, 

And wi* velocity resistless, 

Pitch'd headlang over Mary's mistress, 

Who just had time to gie a yell, 

Till faintia' wi' the fright, she fell. 

Her husband cou'dna help her case, 
Mair than he* 1 been the chimly brace \ 
Yet on his love be nae reflection, 
The poor man tint his recollection; 
And sae wad ye. Trap peelM his nose, 
But notwithstanding smartly rose, 
"W'' fright and consternation gapm' * 9 
Yet still, wi' prospect o' escaping 
Drew near the door — when, sad mischance ! 
The neighbours met'im i* the trance ; 
For Lucky's fa' made sic a din, 
They rush'd frae ilka quarter in, 



DO POEMS. 

An* guessin' he'd committed murther, 
They seiz'd an' wadna let him further. 

While some said ae thing, some anither, 
An* Trap glowed like a poinded weather, 
In came Miss Mall, who stood amaz'd, 
An' on the crowd astonish'd gaz'd. 
At last, to save her luckless lover, 
The hale affair she did discover, 
An' begg'd they wadna be offended, 
As naething ill had been intended. 
But neither Mary's prayers nor tears 
Had pith to save her lover's ears ; 
Sair pich'd her ain — The female squad 
Ca'd her a wild light hippet jade, 
An' him a rakish blackguard ruffian, 
A loggerheaded raggamuffin, 
And swore they kendna what withheld them 
That moment, on the spot to g d him. 

Sweet ladies, exercise compassion, 

Forgie the fools this ae transgression, 

Hae mercy wi' yer scartin' nails, 

Mind ye ware lovers aince yoursels. 

I 



POEMS. 61 

The hurly burly an* the noise 
By this time had alarm' d the boys, 
Wha, ever fond to raise a splore, 
Like bees besieg'd the outer door, 
An' Trap was, without mair objection, 
Delivered o'er to their correction. 

The squire, now findin' it was vain 
Th* unequal combat to maintain, 
Drave through the crowd, took CT^lns heels, 
While twa three hunder souple chiel's, 
Like gapin' hounds hung on his rear, 
An' Trap spang'd like a started deer. 
Their tongues an' feet sic din an' plash made, 
Up in a moment ilka sash gaed. 
What rais'd the tulzie few cou'd tell \ 
But a' declar'd that Trap ran well. 

Mean while, a wild mischievous scout 
Took through a lane a shorter-rout, 
Met him in front, wha now surrounded, 
Astonished stood, and quite confounded — ■ 
Sic showers o' miden ware they sent him, 
His very mither wadna kent him \ 

F 



62 POEMS, 

They daub'd his yellow buckskin breeks, 
His ruffles, vest, his rosy cheeks, 
An' powder'd pow — but fient macare, 
Trap borrow'd courage frae despair, 
Burst through, an' gain'd his daddy's ha% 
While a* the hunters roar'd huza ! 

THE BACHELOR'S TRIP TO THE METROPOLIS.! 






OR ABERNETHY GLEN. 

A ludicrous Tale. 



The hags are astride 

This night, for to ride 

With the devil — and more for the wonder, 

The ghost from the tomb, 

ArfrigL^ed shah come, 

CalPd out by the ioua claps of thunder. — Herrick., 



Fr.ae Trap's unlucky late disaster, 
Mischief -.pranii taster up and faster; 
Abroad he duis r nae langer saunter, 
For waggish ridicule an' banter ; 



POEMS. 63 

The very weans upo ? the street 
Made grave remarks on his retreat- 
He turn'd as sour's an August plum, 
An' on his brov/ a settl-d gloom 
Incessant hang, He curst a place 
Whare he durst hardly show his face. 
His birds might sing, and Jess or Jean 
Might strive to flit his shagrin— 
' f was all in vain. The gowk, forgettin 5 

X fools are always fond o* .flit tin* 
It%truck his head, some luckless hour, 
To make auld mither Scotland's tour, 
Whare he 'mang varying charms might rove, 
And revel in illicit love. 
Deaf to his father's best advice, 
Blind to his mither's watery eyes, 
The dulcet streams o* bliss before him, 
Had fairly gain'd the ascendant o'er him y 
Hence nae advice wad gar him stay 
Amang his friends anither day ; 
But first the squire maun take farewei 
Of Jassoc, Jean, an' buxom Mall ; 
"Wha sigh'd an' sobbet at the tale, 
Syne grat like ony crocodile* 
F2 



64; POEMS, 

Here Trap, to raise their droopin' spunk, 
Fill'd them hale fou, himself ha'f drunk, 
Syne took the gate, as light's the wind, 
His feet seem'd scarce to touch the ground* 
An' tho' the road was wond'rous wide, 
Had errands on its ilka side. 

Now out o' a?sach o* kith an 5 kin, 
The squire dash'd on through thick an' thin.* 
Nor minded dubs, dykes, ditches, hedges, 
His only charge bein' twa bird cages, 
And each held sangsters ha'f a score \ 
These, save his purse,, ware a' his store, 

Thus Trap kept up a smart dog tret, 
Till reachin' that infernal spot, 
The Glen of Abernethy *, which aft 
Had witness'd tragedies o' witchcraft. 

There Satan held his grand parade, 
'Twas there he drilled his awkward squad \ 



* Abernethy Glen is about three miles from Falkland. 



POEMS, 65 

There he fell in wi 5 piper Shaw, 

An' swallow'd him, his drones an* a 5 . 

The pipes play'd skirl gaun down his throat — \ 

The neighbours yet can shaw the spot. 

A lovin' pair, made man an' wife 
At Falkland, whins f baith lost their life 
In this fell Glen. The tale's o'er true ; 
The witches pinch'd them black and blue ? 
An 5 made their banes as saft as woo ; 
Besides, 'tis said that Taylor Langsteek 
Was elfshot here the tither week y 
And Davie's dog, that chas'd a hare 
Up through the glen, was ne'er seen main 

By an outour, when it was mirk,] 
A reverend elder o' the kirk 
Ae night, when comin' down the Glen, 
Had like to meet his hinder en 5 : 
Deils, warlocks, worricows, an ? witches, 
Waylaid an' gat him i 5 their clutches, 
Ail' threat'n'd ne'er to let him hame, 

■\ A sort cf Gretna-green in the vicinity of Falkland 

F3 



OQ POEMS. 

Unless he'd first write down his name 

Wi' his ain blade in their black book. 

This he, wjf sly intention, took, 

Syne clappin' spurs to his gray stallion, 

Sprang through the ranks o 9 their battalion % 

Of Nick's fell powers defy'd the whole, 

And carried affhis muster-roll — 

'Twas bravely done — —But we maun stap 

Digression here, and turn to Trap. 

Through clouds o' stour the squire came scourin* 
The sweat down o'er his nose was pouring 
And tho' baith neck an' bosom bare, 
He panted like a hunted hare ; 
At last he gain'd the ha'f way stane, 
Whare he was well amind to lean 
An' breathe a wee \ but sad mischance 
As e'er fell out in Fife or France ; 
A cage door open'd wi' a clack, 
Just as he laid it aff his back. 
The tenants wisely took the hint, 
An' fast as fire flies frae the flint \ 
The little captives wing'd their flight, 
An 9 bade the astonish/ d squire goodnight; 



POEMS. €7 



Nae time was lost, ye may suppose, 
He coost his coat, his shoon, an* hose, 
An* chac'd the birds o'er moor an' dale, 
But ne'er laid saut upo' their taiL 

Here Trap had reason to complain, 
Ae mischief seldom comes its lane* 
A chapman laddie passin' by, 
Baith claes an' cages chanc'd to spy, 
An' thinking they might help his pack, 
Discreetly slipt them on his back, 
An* out o' sight gade in a crack. 

To quit the pursuit Trap was leath, 
An' ran himsel' clean out o' breath ; 
But finding a' his labour vain, 
He thought on turning back again, 
Cheer 'd wi' the sweet consideration, 
His tither cage in safe possession ; 
But finding that his gear was gane, 
An' naething left but the gray stane, 
What pencil could wi' justice, trace 
The lines of his extended face, 



bS POEMS. 

A sight sae rue-fir* ne'er was seen \ 
The saut tears gush'd frae baith his een, 
An* what to do he didna ken, 
Gae for'art or turn back again. 

"While here the squire bewail'd his case r 
Dark night came creepin' on apace, 
The rays oblique o' parting light, 
Resign'd their power to sable night, 
Wha's mantle wrapt the world in gloom. 
Till Trap cou'd scarcely see his thumb. 

Unhappy youth! hard was thy lot, 
Robb'd o' thy cages an' thy coat, 
To be benighted in a glen, 
tar frae the social haunts o' men— 
An' sic a glen, whare goblins fell, 
An' a' the imps o' earth an' hell, 
For ages out o' mind, have chose ' 
Their place o* general rendezvous. 

At last the night had gain'd the hour 
That bounds her dark tenebrian power. 



POEMS. 69 

An 9 Trap, wi> her cauld vapours chill'd, 
Cravvl'd in amang the whins for biel'd, 
Whare horrid images o' dread, 
On his ill-bodin fancy play'd. 
A' nature round was husht as death, 
Scarce cou'd the winds be said to breathe, 
When in an instant, sic a yatterin', 
As o* ten thousan' magpyes chattering 
AssailM the squire's affrighted ear, 
An* gart his hen-heart dunt wi' fear* 

He quakM, but cou'dna see to rin, 
Nor cou'd he tell what rais'd the din, 
Yet fear'd the warst — Till by and bye 
The moon peept through the cloudy sky, 
An' by her light he cou'd discern 
A sight that gae Kim great concern. 
Across the Glen, 'mang ither wonders, 
He saw auki runki'd hags in hunders, 
A tatter'd tribe I ween, an* such as 
A Sceptic might hae tane for witches. 

Suffice it here, they form'd a ring 
About a clear south rinnin' spring. 



70 POEMS. 

An' there began their incantations, 
Cantripes and other conjurations, 
Which but to name ? supposin't lawfu% 
A volume wadna hand the ha'f o' j 
Thir three short specimens I gie, 
Ye hae them just as Trap tald me— 

First Witch. 

Come, sisters, come, 
The night begir.3 to wear awa 3 
Ere the day begin to daw, 
Ere the cock begin to craw \ 

Come, sisters, come. 

Second JVitch. 

Frae Aberdeen, Montrose, and Mar^ 
Forfar, Brichen, and Dunbar, 
Frae Perth, frae Paisley, an' Dundee, 
An' you that live ayont the sea, 
In Lapland, France, or Italy,. 
Loving sisters, ane an' a', 
Now's the hour, dark an' lowr, 
Come afore the cock can craw— 



POEMS. 71 

Third Witch. 
Burn fire, an' ca'ciron boil, 
Hemlock, juice, an' mercury, 
Snakes an' teads, an' serpent's oil, 
Scarlot thread, an' rantle tree, 
This the hour unlocks thy chain 
Belzie, wi' the cloven paw, 
Bring " thun'er, lightening, hail, or rain/' 
But come afore the cock can craw. 

While thus the curs' d hags gaed on, 
The Legions gae a hideous groan, 
Nick in a flash came up the Glen ; 
Dreadfu' blew the wind an' rain, 
The light'ning glar'd, an' ilka rummel 
O j thun'er gart the mountains tremble.— 
Sae terrible, sae loud and lang 
The frighted Kills wi* echoes rang, 
An' Abernethy's dreary glen 
Resounding sent them back again— 
The rain as out o' buckets pour'd, 
The houlet scream'd, the torrent roar'd ; 
While ragin' flames seem'd to conspire 
To set the universe on fire— 



72 POEMS* 

Announced by this infernal storm, 
Auld Satan took his place in form, 
An' on a huge enormous stone, 
That serv'd for an emperial throne, 
Sat his terrific majesty, 
A gruesome cruel* I wat was he. 

His form was something like a bull, 
Wi 5 horns risin' frae his skull 
At least an ell ; Trap counted ten, 
There might be mae, he didna ken. — 
His tail was docket near the rump, 
An' like a flambeau blaz'd the stump, 
Which serv'd ilk pandemonian wight, 
In place o* moon or candle-light ; 
His een amid the darkness glarin, 
Mair dreadfu* than the fires o' Carron, 
Confounded Trap ; he shrunk wi* fright, 
His hair like bristles stood upright, 
And wad he chang'd his situation 
That moment for annihilation ; 
But vain, alas ! this fruitless wish — 
Nick spied him skulkin' in a bush, 



POEMS. *73 

An* o* his fiends detach'd a quorum, 

Wha drag'd the tremblin' wretch before him. 

His darkness issued a decree, 

A court should sit immediately 

To try the squire. The council's met, 

The judges on the judgment-seat, 

The empannel'd jury took their station j 

And after short deliberation, 

Declar'd, with one united breath, 

The awful verdict, instant death ! 

An' farther stated their opinions, 

Since in his majesty's dominions, 

Nae doctor, surgeon, or dissector, 

Ware us'd on criminals to lecture ; 

And since Trap was a lusty fellow, 

They'd make elf candles o' his tallow, 

And rive his carcase down for wicks — 

Here Trap befool'd his Sunday's breeks ; 

Ev*n Satan's gravity forsook him, 

He gaf'd an' leugh, syne bade them duck him. 

They harl'd him to the Carlin iln, 
There plung'd the ha'f dead creature in, 

G 



74 POEMS. 

Wha like a lump o' lead gaed down * 
His only prayer was leave *o drown ; 
Bur even of that they did prevent him, 
And back before auli Satan sent him, 
Where a* was ready to proceed, 
As had been previously decreed* 

But first to make themselves diversion, 
A bauld whin bush they jagg'd his a — e on ; 
Down o'er his heels the blude came streamin, 
Ti.e hags gafrYd, the squire keep screamin ; 
But mark the pitiJrV conclusion, 
They trail'd him aff for execution,. 
Nae hangman here, nae rope nor pully, 
But Jean o' Jathart sharped her guily, 
While Paisley Meg undaunted stood, 
An' held the cog to kep the blude. 

O Trap, did thy fond mither ken 
The hopeless anguish an' the pain, 
That wrings thy heart and chills thy marrow, 
'Twad pierce her like a poison'd arrow. 



POEMS. 75 

Now gentle reader, I foresee 
The gentle tear will blind your ee ; 
But dry your cheeks, for now at list, 
Tiie storm is gone, the danger past. 
Just on the point o 9 bein' wrecket, 
Trap met a friend when least expecket ; 

His auld acquaintance Mary K , 

A witch o* staunch an* sterlin* metal y 
Well kend she Trap, for mony a cruise 

The twa had held at h — s house — 

She hegg'd his life, which Satan granted, 

Then straight her wooden mere she mounted*. 

An* auld kill Kebar, black as tinder, 

And Trap, gat stride'egs on a hinder. 

They gallop'd down the Glen wi* buy 

For Mary ply'd the whip an' spur, 

Nor bridle drew till at the door, 

Whare he set out the day before ; 

She faithfully discharged the cargo 

She had reliev'd frae Nick's embargo* 

G2 



t~ 



6 POEMS* 



A SONCL 

Come away, come, lovely Flora! 
Wherefore clad in weeds of sorrow ? 
Lay aside thy robes of mourning, 
Gentle Phoebus is returning 5 
Come array'd in all thy glory, 
Virgin crowds are waiting for thee. 
To perfume their wanton bosoms 
With thy fragrant opening blossoms. 

Angry Boreas no more freezes, 
Softly blows the southern breezes •, 
Chilling hoars no longer hover, 
Winter's gone, the storm is over, 
On the banks the flocks are maing, 
By their dams the lambs are playing ; 
The farmer ploughing, sowing, planting- 
All around the scene's enchanting; 

From the groves the birds are singing, 
By the brooks the plants are springing, 



POEMS. 77 



Nature teem'd with vegetation* 
Rising like a new creation, 
The rival woods in vernal dresses, 
Proudly show their infant tresses — 
Spread thy charms, delightful Flora 
To the beams of mild Aurora. 



OK 

THE DEATH 

OF 



LORD VISCOUNT NELSON. 

Let Gallia's daughters mourn the fatal day 

Great Nelson fell, then sunk their naval pride- 
Britannia wipe that briny tear away, 
Thy hero rob'd in spotless glory died. 

The part assigned him on the mortal stage, 
Feiform'd with peerless merit, he withdraws, 

Resigns the thunder of the battle's rage, 
For louder thunders of a world's applause, 
G 3 



78 POEMS* 

Had ancient Grecia claim'd the hero's birth* 

She had decreed a temple his abode, 
Her superstition, and his matchless worth, 

Had rank'd him high as some celestial God. 

Our juster laws such honours deem prophane j 

Yet shall the hero's venerable name, 
Whose flag triumphant swept the spacious main, 

Remain unrivalPd on the rolls of fame? 

lutt monuments of gratitude decay, 

Till wreck' d by time, they tell their tale no more, 
Impartial truth his merit shall display, 

Till battles cease, and seas forget to roar. 

Meantime, soft maids in crowds shall come from far, 
With heaving bosoms and with tearful eyes, 

And many a panting youth and dauntless tar, 
To view the tomb where mighty Nelson lies, 



POEMS. 79 



GOOD-NATURE. 

Know, fair maiden, sweet good-nature 

Is the most attractive grace, 
Is the finest, fajrest feature, 

In the fairest finest face ; 
Wit may strike with admiration, 

Sense and judgment all approve ; 
Beauty courts our observation, 

And enflames our hearts with love. 
■ 
But good-nature,. mord' enchanting, % 

Does a thousand charms impart ; 
Fills the features that are wanting, 

Captivates the coldest heart ; 
This improves the worst complexion, 

Draws esteem and love sincere, 
Friendship, and each kind affection 

Mortal life inherits here* 



SO POEMS, 



WILLIE'S WIFE, 

Will's a lad that lo'es nae strife. 
But keep us a' frae Willie's wife-— 
He's kind and cuthie, frank an' civil \ 
But she's a dinsome ragin' devil, 
She's deaf to reason, void o' sense, 
CraruM fa' o' pride and impudence; 
Nor modest shame, nor gentle grace, 
Peeps through the tempest in her face * 9 
Her een's the lightning flash, and under 
Her tongue's a magazine o' thunder ;. 
It never tires, but yell for yell, 
Makes Willie's hame a sort o' helL. 

Alas ! poor saul, engag'd wi' such 
A chidin', growlin', yelpln' bitch, 
Your dreams of happiness are over, 
Your sweetest, fairest, loveliest lover, 
Has drapt her mask, and full in view 
Stands undisguis'd, a cursed Shrew — 
A Shrew, a devil, or a fury ! 
He's blest has sic a bitch to bury i 



POEMS* - 81 

His heart may dance wi' downright joy, 
What ! though he's fuddl'd at her foy ; 
Sure nane that kend the jade wad wonder, 
When freed frae her infernal thunder. 



EPITAPH. 

Here Luckie lies as quiet as pussy, 
Wha in an uproar held her house ay | 
For drunk or sober, sick or well, 
Her tongue rang like a parish bell. 



THE 



SOLDIER'S FUNERAL. 

Hark ! how solemn* soft, and slow, 
The plaintive notes harmonious flow i 



82 POEMS. 

How they charm the ravishM ear, 

How they prompt the starting te^r t 

In yon sad procession, see 

What the brave must shortly be ? 

Martial fire, and youthful bloom, 
Are no protection from the tombj. 

This the fate of youth and age, 

Of man in ever^ state and stage 

Of life — -nor wealth exeems the great $ 

This the hero's last retreat — 

Here, enclosed in Death's embrace, 

The dauntless soldier sleeps in peace ; 

From thje field of fame retir'd, 

His heart no more with glory nVd, 

Deaf to danger's loud alarms, 

The turbulence and din of arms ; 

• The trumpet's sound he hears no more. 
Nor the battle's thundering roar — 
Yet the virgin's melting lay, 
To ages shall his fame convey j 
Britannia's self shall drop a tear, 
O'er her hero's sepulchre. 



POEMS. 83 



ECCLESIASTES XL 9. 

In days of youth rejoice, young man rejoice ; 

From Reason's serious thoughtful paths depart, 
Incline thine ear to Pleasure's t<u,p'ing voice, 

And care debar from thine exulting heart. 

Are passions warm ? does youthful ardour fire ? 

Does beauty charm thy love enraptur'd eyes ? 
Grasp every joy, indulge each fond desire, 

Let virtue fall a bleeding sacrifice. 

Yet know, rash youth, an overflowing cup 
Of joy contains some bitter dregs of gall, 

[And Reason says, that Pleasure's dulcet lip 
Should drink it to the bottom, dregs and all. 

[ Amid the flowery scenes of fancied bliss, 

Fell serpents lurk, with deadly venom'd sting, 

|Yea, God the actions thou hast done amiss, 
Unveii'd, at last will into judgment bring. 



84 POEMS. 

ON HUMAN *LIFE. 

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG FRIEN^m 

Wou'dst thou the disappointing course, my son, 

Of vanity and vice inglo* ious run ? 

Or wou'dst thou virtue's noble path pursue ? 

My song demands a moment's pause from you \ 

Grant the request — some thoughtful moments spare j 

Important truths daim your attentive ear. 

Short, at the best, and of uncertain date, 

In this precarious transitory state, 

Is human life — A painful passing dream, 

A feather, floating on time's rapid stream, 

A spark, in smoke that instantly retires, 

A meteor that but blazes and expires, 

A flower mat fades, a cloud that flies away 

Before the wind — a variable day, 

Pregnant witii change ; alternate sun and shade 

That vapours, clouds, ana hurricanes invade ; 

And, through the gloom, tho' transient sunbeams play, 

'Tis at the best a weary winter day. 



POEMS. 169 

Even then Ambition, in her mad career, 

Vv T ith murder dy'd the warrior's sword and spear; 

Ere yet the base of Babel's tower was laid, 

War was become a systematic trade ; 

Earth's fatal scourge, despotic power, began 

To trample down the liberties of man ; 

Her dazzling splendour kept the world in awe, 

And servitude was sanctified by law. 

To clear the woods, and cultivate the plain, 
Industry's hands were occupied in vain ; 
In vain for her did yellow harvest wave — 
The tyrant claimed the labours of* the slave ; 
Till, sore dejected, sinking in despair, 
He long'd to breathe a less despotic air. 
Fair Freedom now scorn'd the degraded spot, 
And wing'd her flight to regions far remote, 
"Where forest monsters recogniz'd her reign ; 
There glanc'd. indignaiii, on the ways of nien ; 
Yet oft, with mournful downcast eye, wculd grieve^ 
And drop the tear of pity for the slave. 

Still some remain'd, whose spirits were not broke 5 
Or, like the bullock, tWd to bear the yoke \ 

P 



270 POEMS. 

Too weak t'oppose, and yet too great to yield. 

Forsook their home and cultivated field, 

Beyond the pale of tyranny they past, 

And met the maid of liberty at last ; 

The rocks resounded, green wood echoes rungs 

While Freedom's sons with exultation sung, 

And warbling birds, from every spreading tree, 

In concert join'd the song of liberty. 

So once, from Shinar's fertilized plain, 
Dispersed were the jarring tribes of men, 
Whose countless offspring occupied by times 
Earth's frozen regions and her torrid climes ; 
But as their tribes to multitudes arise, 
Ambition oft, in patriot disguise, 
Insinuates herself to power supreme, 
Of freedom leaving nothing but the name. 

While petty tribes, with unavailing jarrs, 
Exhaust themselves with predatory wars, 
Lo ! Chaldea's monster, with death-boding frown, 
Looks dreadful from his tow'ring summit down. 
Woe to that tribe, who, bold in Freedom's cause, 
Pares to dispute the justice of Lie laws ! 



POEM'S, 

Against their feeble forts his troops advance ; 
Their eyes dart death with each infuriate glance , 
While clouds of dust the murdering rout reveals, 
And thunders issue from his chariot wheels. 

As some rude tempest, sweeping the creation, 
Its furious- course marks with dread devastation, 
This sanguinary power destruction hurl'd 
Upon a feeble and half-peopl'd world, 
Till, in disgust, the earth disgorged the slain, 
Nor drunk the blood that stream'd upon the plain* 
Thus press'd to earth the nations prostrate lay, 
Till many ages time had swept away, 
And Heaven, in pity, heard the plaintive groan 
Gf man, and sunk the tyrant and his throne. 

One empire falls, another still succeeds™ 
Still war goes on, and human nature bleeds. 
The Persian next, the nations to enslave, 
Sent premature her millions to the grave ; 
Then Grecia, led by Phillip's warlike son, 
The peopled earth with carnage over-run : 
And after them, the far-fam'd Roman name 
Did universal power and empire claim : 

P2 



V 



She too, at last, as all oppression must, 
Sunk, and her pride was trampled In the dust, 
Bat with her fail, did every effort cease 
Of mad ambition and the foes of peace ? 
Ah! no ; the ravins; flames of war were fed 
By priests, in their religious mantles clad ; 
Hence holy murders, hence the fam'd crusade. 

From sinking Rome,- Ambition's steps incline, 
Where rolls the Danube and the rapid Rhine \ 
A land of despots and a race of slaves, 
Where bedlam Europe sends her sons for graves, 
And frantic kings, for ages past, have striven 
Who best could ape the thunderbolts of heaven; 
Till drain'd their coffers, wearied with the show, 
They patch a peace 5 and part on status quo. 
To breathe a while, till their resources grow, 

* o 

'Pis thus the desolating flames of war 
Defeat our hopes, and all our prospects mar 5 
Consume the plenteous produce of the year, 
Till Famine pale brings up the trembling rear, 
Some fight for plunder, other some for fame, 
Or trade and commerce— but whatever name 



POEMS. 17& 

Wars may assume, their features to disguise, 
Still crowns and sceptres are Ambition's prize i 
Chiefly for these the flames of discord rage, 
For these have millions died in every age, 
And still for these unnumbered widows cry. 
And starving orphans wander for supply. 

Great God of peace, whose mighty power controls 
The thunder storm that shakes the distant poles, 
Must human blood still roll down like a river ? 
And shall the fatal sword devour for ever ? 
To man's mistaken sons vouchsafe thy grace,- 
Inspire their souls with sentiments of peace, 
Thar yet the world their swords and spears may see, 
Forg'd down for harmless tools of husbandry. 



A SONG- 



Cease, ye noisy drums, to rattle, 
Hush a while ye mortal thunders \ 

Pity weeps, and Reason wonders, 

O'er the wreck and ruins of the battle, 
E 3 



/ 4 POEMS. 

Candidates for deathless fame, 

Mark the scene that lies before you % 

This the hero's bed of glory, 

Where, thousands sleep Fame's trump shall 
ne'er proclaim* 

Mad Ambition, turn your eye 

Where yon ruin'd youth is lying, 
Wounded, mangl'd, bleeding, dying, 

While o'er his head the hungry vultures cry. 

Helpless stretch* d upon the ground, 
Here no weeping wife nor mother, 

Sympathizing friend or brother. 

To sooth his heart, or close the bleeding wound. 

He, while ling'ring life retires, 

Thinks on his home far far away — ■ 

His loving Nancy, fair and gay, 

Anticipates her grief, groans, and expires! 

Never more their darling boy 

Shall his parents see returning ; 
To the grave they travel mournings 

Nor life affords one solitary joy* 



POEMS, r 

ON THE 

LATE PEACE WITH FRANCE. 

Frae Dover cliffs to Johnny Groats* 
Ye poor fowk, Englishmen or Scots* 
Wi' hungry wames an' ragget coats, 

Sad sight to see ! 
Your voices tune to blither notes, 

Rejoice wi' me. 

For better, now, than tomonds twa, 
Yer aliment has been but sma% 
Yer teeth hae tint the gate to chaw, 

Bread's been sae dear ^ 
And whisky ne'er a drap ava 

This lang twa year. 

But peace is come, and plenty's comin', 
And meat an' wark for man and woman. 
Hark! how the blithsome news are bummin ? 

Frae shore to shore, 
Which ilka honest heart does summon 

To sing and roar. 



176 POEMS. 

But, oh ! yer duds o' sarks are done, 
The soals and heels worn aff your shoon r . 
WL' scarce a hat to theek yer crown, 

Yer elbows bare, 
And breeks wad pinch'd bring ha ? f-a-crown 

The thraty pair. 

And ablins some sma' debts to clear, 
Or mair or less we needna spier y 
Tho' cash was scant, an' times severe, 

Ye cou'dna starve, 
Fowk maun hae meat, be't cheap or dear, 

Life to preserve. 

But now that things are no sae scant, 
And plenty's banish'd waefu' want, 
Your creditor will hardly grant 

You time to pay, 
Like some tormented ghost he'll haunt 

You night and day. 

Depend upon't, ye'll get nae rest, 
The beagle tribe will be your pest \ 



POEMS. 177 

If yer ambitious to be blest, 

Ere life's sun sets, 

Be vigilant, and do yer best 

To pay yer debts. 

Syne what ye win will be your ain \ 
And tho' ye tak ? a gill, what then, 
Nae creditor dares mair complain 

Ye J ve spent their gear-— 
O dinna, dinna let their pen 

Yer names mark main 

Syne ye through life may hobble canny, 
And naething due but love to any, 
And when ye mean to spend a penny, 

Yer hearts to cheer, 
Let moderation guide the rein ay- — 

Mind whisky's dear. 

And tho' ye sliou'd nae gather riches* 
That warldiy bodies sae bewitches, 
And honesty but seldom touches, 

Meat, cleas, an* health, 
With an approving heart, o'ermatches 

The choicest wealth. 



178 POEMS, 



THE 

MOORLAND WEDDING. 

Scene — A Country Barn*. 

Moorland Jock an' donsy Jean 
Are married now an' a' man •, 
Had you been there wi' me yestreen, 

Sic fun you never saw man ; 
The country lassies, meek an' mini* 
Wi' hungry chiels in stamach trim, 
To pang their wames as bent's a drum, 
Wi' knife an* fork 
They fell to work, 
An' worried up the beef an' pork, 
As fast as they cou'd ca' man. 

A gusty haggis, warm an' nice, 
But season'd rather high man, 

Wi' onions, pepper, saut, an' spice, 
Besides a mutton pye man , 



POEMS. 179 

Sae tempin' sweet, baith taste an' smell 

Provok'd them to anither spell — 

Ding dang they drave wi' teeth an' nail, 

While they daught chew ; 

Then fire an' tow ! 
It set their livers in a low, 

Till drink was a' the cry man. 

In cogs an' caps the ale gaed round, 
The whisky stoups were clinkin' ; 

But ere they got the haggis drown'd, 
There never was sic drinkin' ; 

The pipes play'd skirl — the younkers sprang, 

To fit the floor fu' thick an' thrang, 

Whare lads an' lasses lap an' flang 
Wi' canty glee, 
Sae merrily. 

Till ilka bonny lassie's ee, 

Wi' love an' drink, was blinkin'. 

But souter Dick, whase heart- strings dirl'd 

For bonny Lizy Fleemin, 
The sweetest lass in a' the warld; 

He'd let her dance wi' aae man: 



180 POEMS. 

But taylor Tarn, a clever chieP, 

•Haul'd Lizy up to dance a reel. 

Dick roar'd out, what the muckle d'eil 
Maks you sae crouse, 
Poor prick the louse ? 

For this Tarn lent him sic a souse, 
That dang his head a gee man. 

Then Crispen drew his pegin-awl, 

The chieP was sair affronted, 
Swore by his conscience an' his saul, 

That he wad see't out-dunted , 
But Tarn, wi' a gude hazel rung, 
Came o'er his crown the tither fung 5 
Tak' that for your ill-scrapit tongue- 
Then box for box, 
Wi ? furious strokes, 
They fought it out like twa game cocks, 
And brawly bade the brunt o't. 

The souter came wi' the bridegroom, 
The taylor wr 1 the bride, man 5 

Which was the reason, I presume, 
Ilk party took a side man 5 



POEMS. 181 

For in the twinklin' o' an ee, 
Ere ye cou'd counted ane, twa, three, 
Baith auld and young began the spree — 
The roof resounds, 
"While cracket crowns, 
And dool an' sorrow, blude and wounds*, 
Are dealt on ilka side man. 

The Piper he crawl'd up the mow, 
Whare snug an' safe lay he man : 

The battle het and hetter grew, 
No ane wad flinch or flee man. 

Now ilka thing gaed heels o'er head, 

The tane upo' the tither tread, 

And many ane maist gat their dead 
Or broken legs ; 
While shatter'd pigs, 

An' bowls, and glasses, hats and wigs, 
Like whirlegiggs did flee man. 

The bridegroom fleech'd them ay for peace, 

But faun' it wadna do man ; 
The hurly burly still increas'd, 

They wad be rul'd by nae man, 
O 



182 POEMS. 

He seiz'd the suple o' a flail, 

And in amang them ran pell mell ; 

Out owre their crowns he gart it tell, 
And in his wrath 
He swore an aith, 

That he wad be that rascal's death 
Shou'd strike anither blow man. 

The battle then began to slack, 

I wat he tann'd their hide man, 
His aiken suple play'd sic wrack, 

The stoutest dought nae bide man ; 
Some tint a teeth, some lost an ee, 
Some had their noses dung a gee, 
Some to the door ware trail'd to die ; 
But sic a stour, 
I'm very sure, 
Ne'er happen'd sin' the Shirra Muir, 
As this wanchancy tide man ! 



*, 






&* 



I POEMS, 183 

A SONG. 

Tune— Tiffli rmugh yth 

The farmer, with pleasure, in sun- shine makes hay, 
And the bees store their cells in the fair summer day | 
To the window the red-breast retires from the snows, 
And the tar spreads his sails to the wind when it blows* 
To the wind when it blows, &c. 

Then, about ship my boys, let us steer into port \ 
Too long to the winds of misfortune a sport ; 

'tis nonsense to fret, to look sour and morose ; 
Spread your sails to the breeze, take the wind while it 
blows. 

Take the wind, &c. 

Ring the bell — call the landlord, and let him prepare 
\ bowl, deep and wide enough to drown every care ; 
Since in friendship we're met here, so blythe and jocose, 
And the gale's fair abaft, take the wind while it blows. 

Take the wind, &c. 
O 2 



; 



184 POEMS. 

By the dry regulations of sulky Queen Bess, 
We're told, reason never shou'd be drown'd in a glass \ 
Seize your bumpers my boys, see the bowl overflows 
Then, a fig for Queen Bessie, take the wind while 
blows. 

Take the wind, &c. 

Down the current of pleasure oar bark glides along, 
While round with the glass goes the toast and the son] 
A spring-tide of glee all its banks overflows, 
And we'll soon reach the port with the wind as it blo^Cl 

With the wind, &c. 

Let the care-worn wretch with misfortunes beset, 
Know, that sorrow can never pay an ounce weight { 

debt j 
Had he sense to improve the last groat in his pose, 
He wou'd spread all his sails to the breeze when it blow) 

To the breeze, &c. j 



POEMS. 185 



ON SPRING. 

Hail ! Beauty's dawn, all bail ! heart-cheering Spring ! 

Welcome, sweet Flora ! from thy frozen bed, 
To flush the fields thy pristine beauties bring, 

O'er Nature's face thy vernal finery spread. 

Let teeming Earth, from her prolific womb, 

Her infant offspring usher into view ; 
Captive no more in Winter's icy tomb, 

To greet the sun, and sip the morning dew. 

The fields again in pleasing verdure drest, 
The river banks how beautiful and fair ! 

And, lo ! the woods, in varied hues, attest 
The rising glories' of the opening year. 

Exulting Nature every charm displays, 

The raptur'd tribes, in various modes, express, 

(Fir'd by the sun's exhilarating rays) 

Their happiness and love — can man do less ? 

O 3 



186 POEMS. 

Shall he alone, amid this scene of joy, 

While charms unnumber'd all conspire to please, 

With fretful gloom, and peevish care, destroy- 
That bliss all nature contributes to raise ? 



THE 

DISCONSOLATE MOTHER. 

^Twas midnight hour, and balmy sleep 

Had closed the slumbering eyes of men, 
Except where Anguish watch did keep, 

And Grief did to the shades complain, 
A mother wept — 'twas for her child, 

By death torn from her dandling knee \ 
When, lo ! a voice, in accents mild, 

Said, Mammy, weep no more for me. 

Twelve months their weary race have run, 
Yet sorrow wastes thy feeble frame, 

Nor joy with the returning sun 

Returns to thee — still, still the same 



POEMS. 187 

Away these tears ! no more complain— 
Such grief who can endure to see ? 

'Tis unavailing, ah ! 'tis vain--- 

So, Mammy, weep no more for me. 

Think on the mother, all bereft 

Of children in their blooming pride, 
While death's heart-penetrating shaft 

Has pierc'd the husband by her side ! 
How small thy cause of grief compav'd 

With her's ? Indulgent Heaven to thee 
Hath choisest consolations spar'd— 

So, Mammy, weep no more for me. 

Since I'm from earth's cold dusky gloom, 
Transplanted into Eden fair, 

To flourish in immortal bloom, 

And rise in endless verdure there : 

With gladness run thy mortal race, 
We'll meet again, and happy be, 

Where sighs and tears and sorrows cease- 
So, Mammy, weep no more for me. 



POEMS,, 



TO 



MISS H- B , A CHILD. 

Sweet Cherub ! so charming and young,. 

So innocent, artless, and fair, 
To parents, thy dear prattling tongue 

Is an ample reward for their care. 

Thy dawn has been mild and serene; 

Thy morning smiles cheerful and gay ; 
May grief ne'er embitter the scene, 

Nor rising clouds darken thy day : 

But safe in thy lov'd parent shade., 
Thy tender bud open to view, 

As the rose's fair bosom is spread 

To the sunbeams, all sparkling with dew. 

Ye winds, whose contaminate wing 
With vapours malignant abound, 

"When ye blast the fair blossoms of spring, 
And scatter the fiow'rets around, 



POEMS. 189 

Ah ! spare the dear bud as ye blow, 
To nip this fair blossom forbear, 

A father's deep anguish forego — 
Oh ! spare a fond mother's salt tear. 



ON TIME. 

WRITTEN JANUARY 1. 1805. 

Since from the measureless abyss 
Of old duration, motionless, 
Imprison'd Time, with bold egress, 

First gush'd a river, 
Six thousand years, or little less, 

Are gone for ever. 

O Time ! thy stream, quiet and profound. 
That whirls alternate seasons round, 
But warning voice, or murmuring sound, 

Incessant flows, 
And must, till in the ocean drown'd, 

Whence it arose* 



190 POEMS. 

When we consult th' historic pages, 
That mark the fate of former ages, 
Of cowards, heroes, fools, and sages, 

Entomb'd and rotten, 
Of erowm and sceptres, kings and lieges, 

Gone and forgotten — 

There we, with retrospective eye, 
Through distant ages can descry 
The ruins of antiquity — 

And thence discern, 
As in a glass, futurity, 

And wisdom learn. , 

For still the seasons roll their way, 
And this, another New Year Day, 
With seraph whisper, seems to say, 

(< Remember, man, 
u Thy frame's composed of brittle clay — 

ci Thy life's a span ! 

(( The recent year is gone from thee, 
u Another thou mayest never see j 



POEMS* 191 

" This calls for diligence from thee. 

- c€ Ah ! ne'er presume, 
u Like fools, on dark futurity, 

u Or years to came." 

When I my raven locks survey, 

"With here and there a hair grown gray, 

It points my roving thoughts away, 

In contemplation 
Of yon contracted bed of clay, 

Man's last possession. 

As strong wing'd eagles cleave the sky. 

Or wing'd with that velocity 

With which our weaving shuttles fly 

Across the loom, 
Down Time's resistless current we 

Rush to the tomb. 

That land of unmolested peace, 
Where mis'ry finds a resting place, 
Where tyrants and oppressors cease 

More to molest, 
And where the slave from wretchedness 

Retires to rest. 



192 POEMS. 

Regions of horror, fenc'd and bound 
With solid walls of darkness round, 
Where sits the king of terrors crown'd 

In majesty, 
Where labour, motion, light, or sound, 

Ne'er found their way. 

No more the raptur'd lover's theme, 
No more the miser's golden dream, 
Or mad ambition's frantic scheme- 
Sad silence reigns ! 
Nor monarchs here distinction claim, 
In death's domains. 

But shall the ghastly tyrant sway 
His sceptre o'er these dens of clay ? 
Nor joyful year of jubilee 

Lib'rate the slave ? 
Of hope does no enlivening ray 

Dawn on the grave ? 

Sleep sound, ye mouldering sons of men, 
Till Time his tale of years expend ; 



POEMS. 19£ 

Sweet immortality shall then 

Invade your slumbers, 

And life her empire wide regain, 

And long lost numbers. 

When thro' the mouldy vaults beneath, 
The rueful galleries of death! 
High blown by Archangelic breath, 

The trump shall sound, 
To wake the dead, as Scripture saith, 

From sleep profound. 

Then rending tombs restore their prey \ 
And then to life's fresh dawning day, 
Shall man from dark obscurity 

Elastic spring. 
O grave ! where is thy victory ? 

Death ! where's thy sting ? 

R 



194 POEMS* 

ON READING 

v 

GENERAL WASHINGTON'S LETTER 

TO THE 

PEOPLE OF AMERICA, 

ON 
KIS RETIRING FROM PUBLIC BUSINESS. 



Mark, ye recording angels, on the rolls 
Of everlasting fame — the genuine friend 
Of true religion, pure and undefll'd, 
Of sterling virtue, fring'd with rags or gold j 
Of social order, and that civil rule 
That tends to augment the sum of human bliss, 
And mend the circumstances of mankind. 

But stain, ye furies ! with the smut of hell, 
And stigmatise with infamy infernal, 
The sordid, selfish, temporizing villain, 
Whether in church or state, who for the sake 
Of wealth, of grandeur, or bewitching power, 
Would slave his brother, sacrifice his friend, 
And barter both his country and hjs God ! 



POEMS* l9l 



THE CXXXin PSALM* 



Behold the sweet domestic scene, 
The cheerful haunts of social love, 

Where smiling Peace and Friendship re'gn, 
Which God and virtuous men approve* 

Less sweet the sacred oil did pour 

From Aaron's head, in streams profuse. 

Less fair mount Zion's blooming flower, 
That drinks of Hermon's evening dews. 

The ointment loses its perfume, 
The faded rose degraded lies : 

But Love, triumphant o'er the tomb, 
Exults in life that never dies. 

R 2 



39S POEMS. 



MORNING HYMN. 



Awake, my soul, the gladsome morning dawns : 
Rejoice, mine eyes, the life transporting ray 

Springs from the gloom, to gild the flowery lawns, 
And cheer the world with animating day. 

Awake and join the concert of the grove, 

The lark on high pours forth her morning lay- 
Shall man, most favour'd, most ungrateful prove, 
His song be last to hail the rising day ? 

Awake and cast thy wond'ring eyes abroad, 
Of Nature view the wide harmonious scene, 

There mark the wisdom, love, and power of God, 
Nor longer,-Jike a peevish child, complain. 

Each rising morn let thy enraptur'd tongue 
To God, all good, the cheerful tribute pay, 

The mortal part sing, of immortal song, 
While life to death resistless rolls away. 



POEMS. 197 



The following is a literal version of a petition 
sent to Mr Hastings, by the wife of Almur Ali 
Cawn, in behalf of her husband, who was after- 
wards put to death for political affairs in India. 

To the most high and mighty Servant of the most high 
and mighty Prince George King of England— 
The lowly and humble slave of misery comes praying 
for mercy for the Father of her Children. 

Most mighty Sir— For ever may thy God 
Shower blessings on thy head, and may the sun 
Of glory's brightest beams illume thy dwelling j 
The gates of plenty, happiness, and honour \ 
May these be open both to thee and thine. 
May sorrow ne'er disturb thy happy days, 
Nor grief invest the slumbers of thy bed ; 
Of peace the downy pillow kiss thy cheek \ 
And o'er the nightly visions of thy couch 
Imagination pour her pleasing charms. 
When tir'd, at last, of life and mortal joys, 
And death shall gently close his curtains round, 

R3 



198 POEMS. 

The last, the parting sleep of human life ; 

Then may the angels of thy God descend, 

Watch o'er thy bed, and guard th > expiring lamp, 

That no ungentle touch, or boist'rous blast, 

May hasten its extinction.-— 

Oh ! then in pity hearken to the voice 

Of wretchedness, and grant the humble prayer 

Of thine afflicted servant. Spare ! O spare 

The father of my children ! Save from death 

The partner of my bed, my husband dear—- 

My all in life. Consider, mighty Sir, 

That he became not rich by fraud or force; 

What he possess'd was the inheritance 

Of ancestors, a long descending line, 

Who flourished- in the smiling days of peace, 

Ere yet the thunders of Britannia roar'd 

Along the Indostan plains ; and quietly reap'd 

Their harvests, and enjoy'd their patrimony 

Fearless and unmolested. Think, O think ! 

The God whom thou adorest detests the blood 

Of innocence. Remember his command, 

C5 Thou shalt not kill" — ? Tis the command of heaven. 

Then give me back my Almur Ali Cawn-— 

Take all our wealth, in mercy strip us bare, 



POEMS, 199 

Of every jewel, every precious stone, 
Our gold and silver-— but take not away 
My husband's life— Upon his gentle brow 
Sits innocence, and round his gentle heart 
The milk of human kindness ever flows. 
Oh ! let us wander through the deserts drear-— 
Let us be slaves, be tillers of the ground, 
Be labourers of these delightful fields, 
Of which he once was lord ; but spare his life, 
O mighty Sir, but spare his life, nor let 
The cruel stroke of death fall on the head 
Of innocence. Accept of all our treasures, 
These thou hast by force; with them accept 
Our gratitude— And we, so long's we live, 
In all our prayers will still remember thee, 
And happy, even in poverty, forget 
That we were rich and powerful. 

The children of my Almur Ali Cawn, 
My children, send their prayers for the life 
Of him that gave them life. Oh ! hear their cry ; 
They beg thee by the Author of their being, 
By that humanity, that, we've been told 
So often, glows in the European's breast - r 



200 



POEMS. 



By all the tender mercies said to dwell 

In- the enlighten' d hearts of Englishmen \ 

By all the virtue, th' honesty, the honour, 

And dear maternal feelings of the heart 

Of thy great queen, whose numerous offspring 

Are so dear to her — the wretched wife 

Of thy unhappy prisoner begs of thee 

To save her husband's life, and to restore 

Him to her anxious arms. Thy God will bless- 

Thy country give thee thanks, the world will praise,! 

And thy imploring vassal, with a heart 

Of gratitude, shall ever pray for thee. 



JOHNNY MILLER. 



A SONG. 



Ye may search frae Spey to Tweed, 
'Mong lads or wi' or wanting siller, 

And back again — but sair I dread 

Ye'il ne'er find ane like Johnny Miller. 



POEMS. 201 

He was handsome, straight, an' tall, 
He was blythe, and unco bonny, 

Gentle, frank, and kind with all- — 
An* a' the maids were fond o' Johnny, 

Johnny courted Mary Bell $ 

An' kindly kindly she received him. 

Truth did in his bosom dwell ; 

But shame on Mary, she deceived him. 

For though the marriage-day was set, 
An* a' the bridal claes made ready \ 

A braw rich laird came to the yett, 
An' twin'd him o' his bonny lady. 

And now, alas ! by dawn o' day, 

Wi' maniac atep he's seen to wander, 

Still hummin' a'er his luckless lay, 

Alang the woodland stream's meander. 

For Johnny's brain is sadly changed, 
At hame nae langer will he tarry, 

He wanders wild, and quite derang'd— 
And still he sings o' faithless Mary. 



QQ £ 2 POEMS. 

IN 

IMITATION OF ANACREON. 

Lavish Nature,' -&at adorns 
Bulls* and goats, and rams* with horns, 
Furnishes the cat with claws, 
Lions with horrific jaws, 
Fish with fins* and birds with wings, • 
Dogs with teeth, and bees with stings, 
Man with wisdom, honour — say 
Has she lavished all away ? 
What has she in store behind ? 
"What reserv'd for womankind ? 
. Eyes, that kill at every glance, 
Where the Loves and Graces dance | 
Glowing cheeks, like Flora fair, 
Half enveil'd in flowing hair ; 
Teeth of ivory, lips like roses, 
Where the smile of love reposes, 
The graceful mien, each love invoking 

feature, 
Wit, and, O chief ! the charms of sweet 

good nature. 



POEMS. 203 

ON . 

THE CHARACTER 

OF 

CHARLES JAMES FOX. 



GpvEAT Fox, for keen discriminating powers, 
Deep comprehension, energy of thought, 
Persuasive reasoning, and clear arrangement, 
And for an ample fund of argument 
And diction, gains by each comparison — 
Dignified, not gaudy, nervous, yet plain, 
His eloquence oft, like a thunder storm, 
Arous'd the nodding senator, and warm'd 
The icy-heart of apathy — or, like 
A sweeping torrent, roaring from the hill, 
Resistless bore them down. The flowery Burke, 
Whose cloud-surmounting fancy soar'd to heaven, 
Whose sweet-ton'd declamations charm'd the ear- 
Must yield the palm: Even classic Pitt must yield; 
And he was great. When ages yet to be 
Shall read their lives, with an impartial eye, 



204 POEMS. 

And with unhiass'd judgment shall decide \ 
Then shall the steady persevering blaze, 
Of this unchanging patriot, eclipse 
The glory of his rivals. 



A SONG; 

Ye sons of dull decorum, 

Yer life's a dead unruffl'd sea, 
A languid uniform, 

That never kens variety ; 
The gloom o' bleak October 

Hangs on yer care-contracted brow ; 
Ye wadna be sae sober, 

But for the price o' gettin* fou* 

Come, landlord, fetch an anker, 
Yer tipplin stoups I downa see, 

An' fetch a chapin tankar' 
For ilka man in company ; 



POEMS. 205 

We'll fuddle helter skelter, 

An* merrily tak' afF our pot ; 
He's wordy o' a halter 

That winna drink to bottom o't. 

Seize every man his cann boys, 

And let us toast his memory, 
That first, in pat or pan, boys, 

Began to brew the barley bree ; 
It makes us strong as Hector ; 

It makes us richer than a Jew ; 
Jove never pried sic nectar — 

As issues frae the barley mow. 

Yer sour and sulky sages, 

Egg fou of auld dogmatic rules, 
Gie them their musty pages, 

The cauldrife jargon o' the schools, 
An' let them bark an' snarl, 

An' carp at joys they never prie ; 
While frae the whisky barrel 

We drink in true philosophy. 
S 



206 POEMS. 

Then wha's afraid o' fortune 1 

Her wheelrins like a whirlegigg ; 
We'll never mind her sportin' \ 

The warl's wide, and we can beg — 
" Come, push about the jorum," 

Till we get sturdy beggar fou , 
Keep up the merry quorum, 

Till candle-light grow brunstane blue. 



EPITAPH. 



Here lies a celebrated toast, 
Wha's beauty was her daily boast ; 
She thought, as fools hae thought before her, 
That every bodie did adore her — 
£ Cijustin' at her lovely tresses, 
Wi' sweet pomatum, kaimsy and glasses, 
Whiles keekin' at her bonny face, 
"Whiles drillin' up the tither grace, 
The modest blush, the smirky smile; 
Whiles tryin' to blink in finish' d style : 



POETviS. 207 

But death, wha's feet maks little din, 

Pil-manner'd dog ! came slippin 5 in, 

SmilM at her pranks, syne drew his dudgeon, 

And sent the cherub here for lodginV 

Think, Beauties, think how hard her case is V 

Even here nae certain restin' place is* 

The potter, on some future day, 

May mix her up amang his clay, 

An 9 whirl her aff, the stuff agr^em', 

In cups and flats for drinkin' tea in. 

Or waur perchance — forbid it Nature, 

That this aiiice self-adrnirin' creature 

Should re-appear in form an* fashion, 

A clumsy 



TO FORTUNE. 

Na ! Fortune ! yer a crazy dame, 
I wonder how ye think na shame P 
Wi' sic a s — n- — 1 kin to claim, 
Sae ill deservm' ; 
While Honesty, again' the stream 

Strives^ haflins starvin\ 



208 POEMS. 

You've gi'n him houses an* a yard, 

He's nae sma' drink, yer P- <s B -s 

laird ! 
He'll creep to notice an* regard; 

While common Sense 
An Honesty are aft ill-saird 

Of friends and pence. 

But ablins 'tis to mak' amends 
For want o' principle and brains, 
You've put yersel to this expence 

O' cash an' claith j 
Sic articles, a' body kens, 

Answers for baith. 

Or is' t for fun 3 your favours chace 
That silly, grovellm', numskull race ? 
Come, come shake hands, gin that's the case, 

Forgie th' aspersion, 
An Ape for Justice o' the Peace ! 

What rare diversion ! 



POEMS. 209 

ON 

REVISITING THE OCHILL HILLS. 



Ten fleeting years have wing'd themselves away 
Since last I view'd this wild secluded scene, 
And after many a weary wandering step, 
And many a disappointed hope and fear, 
Again I hear the roaring water-fall, 
That o'er the precipice, loud thundering down, 
Down to the dark tumultuous abyss, 
Foams, whirls, and boils with rage incredible y 
A precipice, o'er which, in dawn of life, 
With bold exertion, and exulting heart, 
I've often hurl'd some huge enormous stone, 
On purpose merely to enjoy the plunge 5 
While by my side my trusty social dog, 
My only servant, and my friend sincere, 
With looks expressive of his heart-felt joy, 
Would loudly bark applause — A.gain I view 
These wild romantic glens, hills over hills, 
S 3 



210 POEMS, 

And rocks o'erhanging rocks, ragged and gray, 
A scene abrupt and broken, awfully sublime, 
And calculated to impress the soul 
With thoughts solemn and pleasing, and ideas 
Ineffable. Sequestered haunts of innocence! 
Blythe as the lark, how often have I rang'd 
Your heathy summits, sport my only care ! 
On either side, where'er I turn mine eyes, 
Rememberance presents a motley group 
Of half-forgotten images ; while crowds 
Of little incidents of former years, 
With mixt emotion, on my throbbing heart 
Promiscuous rise. On yonder green hill top, 
Now clad with sheep, what happy hours Fve seen^ 
There, on the smooth green turf, a circular trench 
Our rural table for the annual feast, 
Was yearly spread with all the luxuries 
And dainties of the dairy — there, convened, 
The happy shepherds of the neighbouring hills, 
Each with his portion of the social cheer, 
Enjoy'd, uncursM with ceremony cold, 
Or modes vexatious, the convivial hour. 
Done the repast, the happy guests would rise, 
To feats of strength, agility, and art : 



POEMS, 211 

Feat after feat, race after race went round, 
The hours unnotic'd held their onward way, 
Till Phoebus hung o'er the Atlantic wave, 
And sport itself had lost the power to please. 

On yon hill side, where many a bubbling spring 
Spreads verdure round, and many abick'nng rill, 
With broken surface? glitters in the sun, 
Oft have I watch'd the shadow of the rock, 
That mark'd the wishful hour, when I should meet 
My sweet Marina with her milking pail ; 
Nor king, in zenith of his power and pridej 
Nor, counting his accumulating hoard, 
Was miser ever half so truly blest— 
As I, Marina, on the downy heath, 
With thee, my lovely treasure i by my side ; 
My bosom fluttered, and my heart beat thick, 
Nor knew I then the cause — yet these were hours 
By far the happiest I have ever felt, 
Or hope to feel. Alas ! with what alloy 
Is recollected pleasure mixt ! what pains 
Do former scenes of happiness impart, 
When almost every circumstance is gone, 
With all the modes of feeling and of thought 



212 POEMS, 

That made these scenes delightful ! Still I see, 

The shepherd's charge far spreading on the hill 

As heretofore ; but mine are all away — 

My lusty wedder, with his tinkling bell, 

Who pav'd the way, and led the feeble flock 

Along the drifted hill's sun smitten brow, 

To scrape the scanty life-sustaining root. 

Alas ! he's gone. And where are all my rams, 

My champions with massy curling horns, 

Who scorn'd the little arts of cowardly kings, 

That fight and rule by proxy ? They, more brave, 

Durst risk their fortune on a single combat, 

And with intrinsic hardihood decide 

Their rival claims to empire on the heath ; 

But gone for ever now; nor can I find, 

Among the sportive shepherds on the hill, 

An old acquaintance. These are likewise gone ! 

Their several pursuits, as their success, various, 

Dispers'd and scatter'd, never more to meet; 

Or, mouldering, lie forgotten in the grave. 

What mighty change a few short years bring forth! 
The dear companions of my youthful sports 
Are all dispers'd. My very flock is gone ! 



POEMS. 213 

The aged matron, round whose little fire, 

On winter nights, our wondering youth were wont, 

With keen, voracious, never sated ears, 

To range themselves : for she had many a tale, 

And she would talk a winter's night away, 

Of heroes famM in Caledonian song j 

Of giants huge — or saints, that with their blood 

Had seal'd the glorious persecuted truths 

Of their religion — .overcome their foes, 

Contemned the world, and gained the martyr's 

crown — 
With tender tales of pity, love, and sorrow, 
And wonderous tales of ghosts, that from the grave 
Steal forth, and stalk beneath the clouded moon — 
Of fairy elves^ that dance upon the green, 
And from the arms of sleeoing mothers steal 
The infant child, and substitute a block — 
Of witches, dreams, and premonitions dire — 
Oh ! she would talk, and talk, till all our nerves 
Would shake and shiver like the aspine leaf. 
Meanwhile, the crowd would wisely close their ranks, 
And near and nearer still together press ; 
While an o'erwhelming superstitious horror 
Congeal'd our blood, and made our hair stand up. 



214 POEMS. 

Such was her kindness, such her power to please 

And terrify : but her last tale is told, 

And she forgotten ^ neither couid I trace 

Her little cottage by the roaring brook, 

Save by an aged solitary tree, 

That in the corner of a barley field 

Points out the humble spot where once she dwelt. 

Of all the youthful shepherds on the heath, 
Young William was the pride — a lovely youth ! 
Possessing all the graces that adorn 
The social life, and every witching charm 
That steals the heart. Mild, generous, and wise, 
His sensibility by far too strong 
For this afflicted world, where sights of sorrow 
In sad progression rise. For other's grief, 
Grief that he could not cure, his gentle heart 
Still heav'd the kind commiserating sigh. 
Once, I remember, for a helpless lamb, 
Whose mother perish'd in an April storm, 
The gentle shepherd wept, and, kindly good, 
The shivering orphan in his bosom warm'd. 
Nor was he merely gentle, he was curious ; 
Beside a little brook, with shrubbry fring'd, 



POEMS. 215 

He form'd a pretty nursery of flowers, 
Manured, arrang'd, and fenc'd it in with care \ 
And many a plant, and many a lovely flower, 
Has he transplanted from the neighbouring fields. 

To view great Nature in her various forms 
Was his delight. Athwart the gathering gloom, 
When tire red lightnings darted., and the peal, 
With awful dread-communicating roar, 
Imparted terror into every heart •, 
Then would he stand, serene and unalarm'd, 
To watch the starting flash ; or when the peal, 
C j ught by the rocks, seenAi, with a tenfold crash, 
To penetrate the centre of the mountains, 
His ears would drink the music of the heavens 
With extasy. 

Once, on a sweet and pleasing summer morn, 
The sky was clear, with scarce a moving breath 
To shake the humble grass, our flocks around 
Were busy nibbling the nutricious blade; 
The lam 35 were sporting with fantastic glee ; 
The lark on high was pouring forth his song ; 
The dew drops glittering on the blooming heath, 



216 POEMS* 

And crystal currents gushing from the rocks — 
Come, come, said William, let us catch the season ; 
The morning's fair and lovely, let us go 
To yonder circling high projecting rocks, 
And start the echoes with our sounding horns ', 
It minds me still of heaven, to hear them ring 
From rock to rock, transmitted and repell'd, 
Prolong'd, and sweetly varving, till, at last, 
The dying cadence, on the ravish'd ear, 
With soul transporting symphony expires— 
'Tis rapture. Such were chief of his delights. 
But cold's that heart that sympathy had warm'd ; 
In yonder grave, green long ago with grass, 
Without a stone to mark the haliow'd spot, 
My kindest, first, and most beloved friend, 
And best instructor, sleeps. Belov'd in life, 
Lamented in his death : for, like a bud, 
Nipt by the blast that blots the vernal sky, 
The gentle William withered and decayed 
Ere he had spread his leaves -, for he had books, 
And read, and read, and thought, and por'd, and 

read, 
Until at last his lovely form gave way, 
And, like the snow before the April beam, 



POEMS. 217 

Melted and disappear'd.-~Ah ! what is man ? 

An insect, fluttering in the summer beam ; 

The blast blows from the hill, and he is gone ! 

* ^j 

Not so with you, ye rock constructed mountains! 
Ye proud aspiring monuments of nature, 
In permanent stability you smile , 
On all the mighty changes that surround you. 

O J O J 

What generations have you seen swept off! 
What cities rais'd and ruin'd ! and what laws 
Made, alter'd, and extinguished, even before 
Great Fingal fought, or Ossian strung his harp ! 
Still you're the same, and, till the trump of heaven 
Shall shake the pillars of the universe, 
You shall remain. 

Rossia! thou prince of ail the neighbouring hills. 
Whose lofty summit proudly overlooks 
Surrounding regions, and commands the view 
Of half a kingdom, on thy mossy brow 
Once more, reclin'd in indolence, I trace 
The rivers to their sources, and survey 
The cities, churches, villages, and farms, 

T 



218 POEMS. 

The herds of cattle, and the flocks of sheep, 
With all the bustle of industrious life. 

Proud landscape ! where a field can scarce appear 
But stands conspicuous on the page of fame ; 
Nor brook, nor river rolls, but has been dyed 
With the best blood of Caledonia's foes. 
Dear fields of fame ! what time I cast mine eyes 
Along the trophied scene, still conjur'd up 
By fancy from the grave of ages past, 
Patriots and heroes, in the glorious cause 
Of Freedom arm'd, in proud succession rise. 

From yonder mountains, towering from the vale 
With wild romantic grandeur, whose dark tops 
Arrest the wandering clouds, behold our sires, 
Of nobly daring independent souls, 
With rocky fragments from the ragged cliffs, 
Kurl Caledonia's vengeance on her foes, 
Derange the legions, bound the mad ambition, 
And stain the laurels of all-conquering Rome ! 

Or, on the banks of rapid rolling Tay, 
Against the invading dark determin'd Dane, 



POEMS. 21 'J 

Unsheath the sword, and draw the quivering shaft*, 
W-hile rocks and dens reverberate the din 
Of doubtful warfare, and the dying groans 
Of falling heroes, whose wide gaping, wounds 
Pour purple streams, to stain and swell the tides. 
The battle's won ; for, la ! the warlike Danes, 
Press'd to the brink of Tay's proud rolling wave,. 
Promiscuous plunge in the relentless flood, 

Behold, on yonder wide extending plauv 
Kiss'd on its western side by Fortha's stream, 
The Saxon army spreads its hostile wings. 
With all the pride and. insolence ox power ; 
While, torn by faction, crush.' d by foreign fcrce^ 
Poor Caledonia hangs her head, and weeps 
Her xuin'd country, and her slaughtered sons. 

Alas ! and does there none, of all their children, 
Of all the dauntless heroes she has rmrs'c.l, 
Remain to plead their injur'd mother's cause ? 
And must proud Scotia meanly recognize 
Th' insulting tyrant's power ? and must she sell 
Her independence for inglorious peace ? 
Courage, ye fainting Caledonians ! No ; 

T 2 



220 POEMS. 

Her chieftain conies ; he conies to plead her cause, 
To avenge her wrongs, and from her borders drive 
Invasion. Wipe away those shameful tears, 
And gather laurels for the hero's brow. 

The battle joins, with turbulence and noise 
Cf clashing arms, the massy shields resound. . 
The patriot's heart,, by Liberty infpir'dj 
His arm, with justice strung, no more the shield 
The plaited mail, or helmit, can protect 
its owner from tlv enthusiastic rage 
Of his avenging sword. With carnage dire, 
Lo! through the deepest columns of the foe 
The firm, compacted, patriotic band, 
Cut a resistless sanguinary way, 

O Wallace ! prince of heroes, and the pride, 
The lasting pride, of patriots and men, 
Thy real actions rival, oft excel, 
The fictions deeds renown'd in Grecian song ; 
Faithful in all thy treaties, mild in peace, 
intrepid, wise, and terrible in war. 

man unarm'd, nor female, priest, or child, 
Had ever cause to dreacl thy conquering arm, 



POEMS. 



221 



That scorn'd, with manly dignity* to fall 
Upon the feeble and defenceless head. 
Thy sword was never in the guilty cause 
Of conquest drawn, to gain thyself a crown ; 
Thy country's good the sum of thy ambition, 
Her independence thy supreme delight. 
And honest fame thy only wish'd reward. 
That honest fame is thine, nor could the power 
Of barb'rous Edward rob thee of a sprig, 
Of all the laurels thou so bravely won, 
Away ! ye mean destroyers of the world, 
In dark oblivion hide your cowardly heads, 
Nor let your names be mention'd in the page 
That's consecrate to peerless Fortitude, 
To Honour, and to Wallace.— Hence, for shame ! 
Ye ravagers of kingdoms, who destroy 
Their population, sack their towns, and mix. 
In undistinguished havock, son and sire, 
The mother and her daughter-, even the child, 
Torn from its murder'd mother's bleeding breast, 
Horrid idea ! on your ruffian's point 
Has breath'd its last.— Unhappy Glencoe! 
Such, worse than this, was thy dark midnight £ue--« 
And, Warsaw! such was thine. -Perish the memory 

T 3 



POEMS. 



Of deeds so dark with infamy and guilt ! 

And stain'd with blackest odium be their names, 

Who baptize Murder by the title glory ! 



MORNING. 



Aurora, clad in robes of silver gray, 

Deep ting'd with gold, illumes the eastern sky ; 
Rejoicing nature hails the infant day, 

And foes of light with shades of darkness flr. 



The beasts of prey post to their dreary dens, 

And thieves and robbers to their lurking caves \ 

"While riot, with intoxicated brains, 

The haunts of vice and dissipation leaves. 

The landscape brightens ; from the parting gloom 
Again fair Nature rises on the sight, 

As v?hen, of old, it issued from the womb, 
The womb of dark unfathomable night. 



poems.. 223 

The towVing lark, on humid ether borne, 

In strains sublime pours forth her matin song y 

The mateless turtle, frx>m the lonely thorn, 
Relates loer tale of violence, and wrong. 

A flood of rapture issues from the grove, 

The woodland 1 warblers, from each trembling spray, 

Exulting pour their little souls in love, 
And flutter grateful to the rising ray. 

The boding raven, with disgusting croak,. 

Incessant crones his ear detesting part y 
With animating crow, the village cock 

Commands the imps of darkness to depart. 

Industry starts from soft reposing sleep, 
The child of labour, the reward of toil , 

While misers from their broken slumbers creep, 
Resume their cares, recount the glittering spoil. 

The rising day invokes the sons of toil — 
Now all to their respective posts proceed ; 

The cheerful ploughman tears the stubborn soil, 
And carefully prepares it 'for the seed. 



22^ 



POEMS* 



Of village smoke the tow'ring columns rise, 
And dissipate to tin distinguished air ; 

While shepherd beys, with their half-open'd eres, 
Creep o'er the lea, unpenn their fleecy care. 

Silence retires, and every varying sound 

Floats on the fragrant breezes of the morn ; 

The woodman's stroke makes distant rocks rebound, 
While thro' the glen loud rings the echoing horn. 

The falling oak, with lengthen'd pond'rous crash, 
Roars through the mazes of the list'ning wood ; 

The boatman's oars, with well adjusted plash, 
Incessant cleave the smooth transparent flood. 



O'er highest hills the Orient Monarch pours 

His morning beams, exhales the sparkling dews; 

And earth, with pride, presents her blushing flowers J 
With opening bosoms of unmimber'd hues. 



POEMS. 221 

THE 

BLIND MAN's LAMENTATION. 



AdieUi sweet light! thou glorious beam divine* 
Of iiappmeii the usgxhauitbig speiagf 

Thy rays effulgent shall for ever shine \ 

But ne'er to me shall consolation bring f 
To me, involved in dark surrounding gloom, - 
Dark as the midnight regions of the tomb. 

Ah ! what's the world to sight destroyed I 
A rueful blank! an irksome void ! 

"Where I shall never 
Behold, sweet light! thy twi-light gray % 
O glorious sun ! nor thy bright ray 

Again for ever. 

Exulting I have seen the rising dawn, 

The noontide beam, the star-bespangl\l skies, 

I The flowery spring, the dew-besprinkl'd lawn ; 
But these no longer charm my sightless eyes. 



226 POEMS. 

On shoreless seas of ra'yless darkness tost, 
Tq rne the glorious universe is lost. 

And shall I never more behold 

The morning clouds in beaming gold ? 

Never! O never! 
. Nor view, with rapture beating heart, 
The charms of nature or of art,. 

Henceforth for ever. 

Man's happiness from variation springs ; 

Alternate change and contrast please the sight, 
O'er all the vast diversity of things, 

His eyes will rove with ever new delight; 
But life's to me a never shifting scene, 

O J 

Where daxkundissipated shadows reign — 

Nor hope remains, that e'er a ray 
Shall change this dismal night to day — ■ 

Never! O never! 
The sun will still in glory rise 
To cheer the world ; but, ah ! these eyes 

Are clos'd for ever. 



poems, 221 



ON HAPPINESS. 



Felicity ! thou soft enchanting theme, 
Thou fleeting fugitive, ah ! stay, and tell-, 

jLrt thou a pompous, vain, and empty name, 
An airy phantom, unsubstantial ? 

But if a solid good, a substance true, 
And ef impartive qualities possess'd, 

Why disappointed still do men pursue, 
Yet die at last unsatisfied, unblest ? 

Dispel the obscuring clouds that hover round, 
That veil thine image from my longing eyes : 

Say, in what station art thou to be found? 
And teach me how to gain the darling prize. 

Enquiring friend, hear what I have to say, 
And wisely mark the important truths I tell, 

Search not for me in Folly's pathless way, 
With guilt and vice I never deign to dwell. 



228 POEMS. 

I dwell in light, unclouded and serene, 

Where beauty charms, and all the virtues shine 

With smiles I cheer the captivating scene, 
And undisturb'd tranquillity is mine. 

I dwell where no false flattering tongue beguiles, 
Nor envy wounds with mortifying dart, 

In every face love, sublimated, smiles, 

Inspires each tongue, and glows in every heart. 

In quest of me, while drunkards drain their bowl, 
And with the noisy sons of riot roar, 

Mean debauchees in grovelling vices roll, 

And pamperd gluttons eat, and call for more — 

The busy world in buzzing tumult roar, 

And this way, that way, every way they roam ; 

The earth and seas they studiously explore 
In quest of me ; yet only find a tomb. 

Vain's the pursuit, superlatively vain, 
To search for me 'mong sublunary toys : 

To wealth, to power, and honour, I disdain 
Ere to bequeath m'y pure unmixed joys. 



! 



poems* 229 

A cup, brim full, of unremitting bliss, 
Drops from the lips of vitiated man j 

Exclusive right of pure immortals this, 
Beyond the verge of life's contracted span. 

A dusty crown, a sceptre, and a throne, 
The tow'ring summit of Ambition's lust, 

Opinion's breath oft has, and may pull down, 
And stamp their tensil honours in the dust. 

Not so the honours by my subjects worn, 
The deathless glories of our happier clime 

Defy the shock of siege, by sap or storm, 
Smile at the rage of all-corroding Time. 

In this cold clime, with dark and frowning skies, 
Where hope and fear eternal warfare wage, 

No flower of bliss can to perfection rise, 
Nipt by chill Winter's desolating rage. 

The tempest scowls, the foaming surges roar, 
And life's weak bark with frowning fury toss. 

But virtue points you to the peaceful shore, 
Where all the sons of happiness repose. 
U 



230 POEMS. 



ON 



A CORN-MONGER, 



What means this tumultuous clamour ? 

Say, why do the populace shout, 
And children, with turbulent yammer, 

Make such a ridiculous rout ? 
See ! see the poor half-starving creatures, 

Who yesterday look'd like the ground, 
How joy enlivens their features ! 

To day 'tis all happiness round. 

4t A wretch, Sir, to starve us with hunger, 

" Though meal was four shillings a peck, 
" His corn kept twelve months and longer, 

<c Nor less than a crown would he take : 
cc But peace came, that he least expected, 

" And all his fine schemes went to wreck \ 
4( And now, as the people predicted, 

M He's hang'd himself up by the neck ! 



POEMS. 231 

THE 

NEGRO SLAVE.. 



Here, to my Imagination! 

Every Wave emphatic roars 
Sickening sounds of lamentation, 

From dark Afric's weeping shores- 
Hark ! I hear my mother crying, 

O ! my son for ever gone ! 
My father to her grief replying, 

"With a deep despairing groan, 

Yes, fond parents! we're for ever 

Parted by the boundless main, 
Separated so as never, 

Never more to meet again ; 
While, with heart-consuming anguishy 

You're descending to the grave, 
I, your son, in sorrow languish 

Here, a poor mal-treated slave. 
U 2 



232 poems* 

Like a bleeding victim, torn 

From my friends and native soil, 
Hopeless, heartless, and forlorn, 

Doom'd to slavery, sweat, and toil \ 
While, with thirst and hunger fainting, 

Oft my back by stripes is torn. 
Wherefore, monsters! unrelenting, 

Do ye treat my tears with scorn ? 

Must my pain enhance your pleasure ? 

Must my grief accent your song ? 
Must I toil to swell your treasure, 

Unavailing life along ? 
Do the gods, who speak in thunder, 

Recognize your title good, 
Thus to rend our souls asunder, 

Tear our flesh, and drink our blood ? 

Have they doom'd tribe and nation 
Slaves to your presumptuous race ? 

Is their mark of degradation 
Printed on our sable face ? 



poems. 233 

Who, but cowards, who could suffer 

Life on such debasing terms — 
Joy and liberty for ever 

Fled to -death's protecting arms? « 

Hear! O hear my mournful story. 

Benefactor of the slave ! 
Spread thy freezing mantle o'er me, 

Hide me in the peaceful grave ; 
There shall chains of degradation 

Rattle in my ears no more, 
Nor the. scourges of oppression 

Ever stain my back with gore, 



THE 

BACHELOR'S EPITAPH, 

Here lies Trap, 
In Death's cald lap, 

Takin' h's nap 
As sound's a tap, 

US 



2Z4 POEMS. 



A SONG. 



Come, dear Nancy come wi' me* 
Underneath yon beechen tree, 
Whare the rose and lilly grows, 
Whare the bubblin' fountain flows; 
There the leafly branches, spread, 
Form a love encirclin' shade — 
Sheltered frae the scorchin' ray, 
Let us kiss the hours away. 

Hark! the linnets from the spray 
Callj my love, to come away, 
While ten thousand warblers sing 
A' the joys of love and spring — 
There, conceal'd from vulgar eye. 
While the dancin' minutes fly, 
Like the birds let us improve, 
Let us fill them un wi J love. 



POEMS. 



A SONG. 



Whare Charlie gets siller there's nae body kens,. 
It neither can be by his fingers nor brains ; 
Yet Charlie's a blood, and he's dashin' fu' rarely, 
O gin the gowk wad ca' hooly and fairly. 

Hooly and fairly, &c. 

What time he gets dress'd in his huntin' attire, 
To see him on horseback you'd think him a squire, 
With his hounds at his heels on a morning so early. 
O gin the gowk wad ca' hooly and fairly. 

Hooly and fairly, &c. 

On the fields in the morning his game he runs down; 

By night hunts the w s thro' ilk lane o' the town; 

Or homely or handsome, they're a' ane to Charlie. 
O gin the gcwk wad ca' hooly an' fairly. 

Hooly and fairly, &c. 



236 POEMS. 

On the street, when he sees a young lady advance, 
Ye wad think him a monkey imported from France, 
He flutters, he bends, and he figures sae squarely. 
O that the gowk wad ca' hooly and fairly. 

Hooly and fairly, &c. 

Thus Charlie laughs rags an' starvation to scorn; 
If hje mak' nae a spoon, he'll but spoil a good horn — 
A beggar's meal pock, or five thousand pounds yearly, 
Still. I wish the daft gowk wad ca' hooly and fairly. 

Hooly and fairly, &c 

For should he unluckily chance to dash on, 
Till his nose, an' his clink, an ? his credit be gone, 
And his carcase decline- — oh! he'll pay rather dearly 
For this simple counsel — Ca' hooly and fairly. 

Hooly and fairly, &c. 



EPIGRAM. 

Ere while the Franks, wi' kittle cast, 
Laid their braw throne in ruins ; 

Now to atone for errors past, 

They're making scores o' new anes. 



POEMS. 237 



A SONG. 



Mam wishes me married, and sae does my daddie \ 
My sister says, lassie, tak* our prentice laddie ; 
My brother says, better to wed the young doctor \ 
But I'll marry nane but my bonny playactor, 
Sae kindly he cuddles me up in his oxter — - 
I'll die gin I getna my bonny playactor. 

I'm courted by wabsters, Pm courted by taylors, 
Pm pester'd wi' sogers, Pm towzl'd by sailors, 
Pm teas'd by the merchant, the clerk, and the proctor^ 
But I'll marry nan€ but my winsome playactor^ 

Sae kindly, &c. 

4 

Pll no hae the blacksmith, Pll no hae the couper, 
Pll no hae the wabster, the wright, nor the souter, 
The baker, the butcher, the farmer, the factor- — 
Pll part wi' them a 9 for my bonny playactor. 

Sae kindlv, &c. 



238 poems. 

Tho' I say't myseP, Pm baith handsome and pretty, 
Baith finer and fairer than Nancy or Betty — 
And were I as fair as the sweetheart of Hector, 
I'd ware ilka charm on my bonny playactor. 
Sae kind!y he cuddles me up in his oxter — 
Oh ! I'll die gin I getna my bonny playactor. 



THE OLD SOLDIER. 

A SONG. 

By age and by want overtaken, 

And labour no longer can I, 
By friends and acquaintance forsaken, 

Pm forced to beg for supply. 
In days of my youth, I remember, 

No lark was more cheerful than I,. 
From January round to December, 

My hours, wing'd with pleasure, did fly. 

"But, fir'd by ambition, I ventur'd 

The life of a soldier to try ; 
On war's wide theatre I enter'd,. 

And danger did bravely defy ; 



POEMS. 239 

I fought and I bled for my nation, 
Where heroes in thousands did lye — 

But now I must combat starvation, 
Or beg for a scanty supply. 

The birds have their nests where to fly to, 

Wild beasts have their dens where they lye; 
But, seventy years old, what shall I do — 

No house, home, nor shelter have I! 
If a friend, passing, chance to espy me, 

Disdainful he turns his eye. 
One comfort is, few will envy me 

My rags and precarious supply. 

At life and at mankind disgusted, 

The terrors of death I defy ; 
Since friends I find cannot be trusted, 

I'll bid them farewel by and by. 
But since from the station of danger, 

That soldier's a coward would fly ; 
I'll wait, though accounted a stranger, 

For th' hour of relief, which is nigh. 



240 POEMS. 



PHCEBUS AND LUNA. 



Said Phoebus to Luna, ye glimm6rin' jade, 

How durst you my goodness abuse ? 
Why set yon poor ha'f- wilted warld stark mad ? 

See them ragin' like bedlam let loose ! 
War, conquest, and murder, by sea and on shore, 

Does a' their attention engage — 
The orbs o' my system are stmm'd wY their roar, 

And Nature convuls'd wi* their rage. 

Frae the south to the north, frae the east to the west, 

The victims of lunacy bleed ; 
And should they get leave to go on, I protest 

Ere long they'll extinguish the breed. 
Ye slut ! do ye think on sic throat-cuttin' wark 

An idle spectator I'll g*ze ? 
No-, I'll leave them to end their disputes in the dark, 

Or I'll set their whole orb in a blaze. 



POEMS. 241 



A SONG. 



When fair Aurora greets the skies, 
With rosy cheeks and humid eyes, 
I'll steal to where my treasure lies, 

And snatch a kiss from Mary ; 
And when the sun's refulgent beams 
The breathing atmosphere enfiames, 
I'll choose, beside the murmuring streams, 

Some cool retreat with Mary. 

With joyful heart I'll range and rove, 

O'er hill and dale, through shade and grove, 

And tender tales of ardent love 

Will prattle to my Mary ; 
And, till the gentle evening ray 
Sink in purple waves away, 
In love and rapture spend the day 

With my enchanting Mary. 
X 



242 FOEJVfS. 

O ! she's my heart's delight and choice, 
The very blinks frae her black eyes 
Have made my soul the lawful prize, 

Of heart-enslaving Mary. 
Let Mars indulge in blood and gore ; 
Give Mammon gold to swell his store ; 
Let Drunkards in the tavern roar — 

And me caress my Mary. 



ON SEEING A MAN IN EXTREME AGI- 
TATION OF MIND. 

Poor man! how weak thy frame! how short thy life ! 
Yet that short life by jarring passions torn, 
The rays of hope beclouded •, fear and doubt, 
Anxiety and care, invest thee round— 
The scene on either hand's tumultuous and confu'd ; 
Behind, obscure and gloomy, or, at best, 
An empty, cheerless, unavailing dream ; 
Before thee, clouds of thickest darkness roll \ 
Prophetic horrors brood upon thy heart, 



POEMS. 243 

With serious doubts unsettl'd, whether thou' 
Art to the goal of non-existence prone, 
Or whether thy informing part shall rise, 
Triumphant, o'er the wreck of dissolution, 

In this benighted state, the wilder'd soul,. 
Tost on the seas of dark uncertainty, 
Longs for some conscious pilot to direct 
Her course to some fair port of peace and rest-^ 
Meek-ey'd Religion, Reason in her train, 
Obsequious wait thy call, and point the way 
To regions, where eternal sunbeams smile, 
And each perplexing doubt shall be resolv'cL 



ON RELIGION. 



Religion, light of heaven! 
To man in mercy given, 
Deign to conduct him through the entangling maze 
Of life, where snares abound, 
And shades of death surround; 
X2 



244 POEMS. 

Display thy torch, and to his raptur'd gaze 

Exhibit all the glories that await 

Thy votaries, sincere, beyond this mortal state. 

What though the fool, when Fortune smiles, 
And Pleasure's siren voice beguiles, 
On her smooth tide, by Flattery's breath, 
Be wafted down the streams of death, 
Well pleas'd with ruin, deaf to Wisdom's voice ; 
At last, when roaring seas, and angry skies, 
With frowning aspect lowr, and witching pleasure 
flies — b 

When friends, and fame, and health decay, 
And wealth makes wings and soars away \ 
When age arrives, with hideous train 
Of soothless sorrow, cureless pain \ 
When comfort fails, and earth appears 
A land of grief, a vale of tears — 
Bewilder'd on the verge of coming night, 
He'll hear thy voice, and prize thy cheering light. 

Who else can sooth his rankl'd soul, 
Serene his mind, his fears control* 



POEMS. 24c 

Of terrors rob the grisly king, 
Destroy his power, invert his sting ; 
Bid Hope's bright sun dart through the gloom* 
%To radiate the cheerless tomb — 
Divine Religion ! it belongs to thee 
To point out life and immortality, 
And fortify the soul with resolution 
To meet the shock of coming dissolution. 

And if 'tis so, as Wisdom's children say, 
In vain, Religion, do thy foes combine 
To dim the lustre of thy heavenly ray •, 
Vain their attempts to quench thy spark divine, 
That 'mid the blaze of everlasting day 
Shall rise, and with progressive glory shine.- 



ON THE SAME SUBJECT. 

Some paint Religion like a raging fury, 
With all the treats and features of Revenge; 
Her right hand brandishing a bloody sword, 
Her- left dispersing faggots, fire, and flames, 

S3 



246 POEMS# 

To rid the world of those they blindly deem 
The het'rodoxial foes of God and man; 
While others paint her gloomy and morose, 
Unsociable, sorrowful, and sour, 
Almost the haggard visage of despair- 
Though neither, 'tis presumed, have ever seen 
The mild original, whose countenance 
Is ever pleasing, cheerful, and serene, 
Open and expressive, and whose eyes 
Beam forth compassion, tenderness, and love; 
Like her great Author, who is love itself, 
Her lips breathe peace and pure benevolence ; 
Nor wields she other weapons 'gainst her foes, 
Than truth, persuasive, droping from her tongue. 



THE SENSUALIST. 



Attir'd in crimson, see yon wealthy son 
Of Epicurus, whose convivial board 
Groans underneath the spoils of every clime, 
In his fair dome, where midnight tapers blaze, 
And slaves obsequious wait their pamper'd lord ; 



POEMS* 247 

The side-board glitters, and the sparkling cup, 

Fraught with the soul-exhilarating juice 

Of Bacchus, circles round. Meanwhile, the roof 

Resounds the roar, tumultuous, of mirth 

And revelry run mad. There, too, the dance, 

With sprightly air and graceful measured step* 

According with the sound symphonious 

Of well-tun'd instruments, along the hall 

In splendid order sweeps. Blest antidote, 

That bars reflection from the heart, and quiets 

The turbulence of conscience, and that drown* 

The feeble voice of Reason in the noise 

Of merriment, festivity, and joy. 

Bewitch'd with pleasure, and absorb'd in sense, 
Self all his care, and passion all his guide ; 
While from his obdur'd bosom every spark 
Of sympathy exil'd. In vain does want, 
With man-degrading supplication, beg 
The falling crumbs of his luxuriant board, 
Deaf as an adder to the piercing voice 
Of hunger-urged intreaty — by his gate 
(While dogs are largely fed) the famish' d wretch 
Is suffer'd to expire. 



248 POEMS. 

The plenteous produce of his fertile fields, - 

The rapid progress of his rising fortune, 

And artful friends, with sycophantic voice, 

All whisper softly in his ravished ear, 

And, with bewitching rhetoric, proclaim 

Oceans of bliss, exhaustless springs of joy. 

He ruminates, enraptured with the theme, 

The guileful dream of Pleasure's flowing tide ; 

Exults o'er all his precious stores amass'd 

'Gainst many a coming year, and bids his soul 

Dispel each gloomy thought, each festering care, 

Each sour reflection, every future dread 

Quash and despise — rejoice, si eat, drink, be merry .'* 

But, lo! the circle of his pleasures run, 

The startling summons thunders in his ear, 

" This night thy soul shall be requir'd of thee." 

Dread sound ! that wakes the slumbering soul to 

thought, 
Untacks the tongue of conscience, and dissolves 
The air-blown bubble, that through life engross'd 
All his affections, occupied his heart. 

Rous'd from his dream of happiness, no more 
The world, with all its pleasures, can impart 



?oems. 249 

One gleam of joy, one consolating ray 
Of hope, to cheer his sore benighted soul, 
But fearful apprehension musters up, 
Behind the thin partition that conceals 
That country unexplor'd, in grim array, 
The ghosts of former crimes, a hideous train? 
Sullen as death, and horrible as hell. 

Back from the dreadful precipice, the soul 
Affrighted starts •, but Death's relentless blow 
Dispatches from the flowery paths of pleasure — 
Transition strange ! consigns the unthinking fool 
To those dark regions, where the sons of riot 
Are finally forgot. 

But mark the upright, and behold the man 
Of rectitude and piety sincere — 
Though clouds of darkness eft obscure his day* 
His setting sun shall shine, his evening sky 
Be calm and cloudless, and the air he breathes 
Be that of heaven — his latter end is peace — 
Peace with his God, the world, and with himself* 
Serene's his mind, he therefore can posseae 



230 POEMS. 

His soul in patience, should a sweeping storm 
Of complicated evils rage around. 

Unshaken in his confidence and hope, 
He recognizes, in approaching death, 
The messenger of Peace, a welcome friend, 
Charg'd with his Father's order, to dissolve 
The mortal prison, and to liberate 
The heaven-aspiring soul. Around his bed, 
Where Piety sheds tears of joy, and Vice, 
Appali'd, impress'd, convinced, seems half resolv'd 
To change her course ; the delegated guards 
Cf II.6a.y e n himtdi in waiting, to receive 
The kindred spirit, and their precious charge 
Conduct in safety to his Father's house. 

Were hell a fable, heaven itself a dream, 
The hopes and fears that hover round the grave, 
Or peep alternate through the hazy gloom 
Of future darkness, an ideal vision, 
All moral good and evil, only terms 
Of mere distinction— still the devotees 
Of virtue and religion would have cause 
Of triumph o'er the votaries of vice.- 



POEMS. £51 

Let scoffers mock, let witlings taunt and jeer, 

And hold religion up to ridicule ; 

The closing scene of human life bids fair 

To try our courage, scrutinize our hearts, 

To exhibit all our motives to the view 

Of sober' d reason, and to mark our deeds 

With epithets of censure or of praise. 



STRANGE OCCURRENCE. 

On Athol hills, the southern wind, 

Wi' hollow sough, did blaw, 
And prone descending torrents pour'd 

Frae wreathes o' meltin' snaw. 
Through ilka glen they rush'd amain ; 

Tay roar'd o'er bank an* brae, 
And muckle gear, swept aff the plain, 

Did down the current gae. 



252 POEMS. 

The crashm* ice, in floating shoals, 

Was wonderfu* to see ; 
An' people cam' frae far an* near 

To view this prodigy. 
A lovin' mother and her child 

Appear'd amang the crowd; 
Her first an* only child I ween, 

Of whom she was full proud. 
The thoughtless infant, unobserv'd, 

Had left his mother's side, 
And gazin* on the giddy stream, 

Slipt forward in the tide. 
A moment's space, in dumb amaze, 

EntrancM in thought she stood, 
Then frantic shriek d, my child! my child! 

And darted in the flood. 
But vain was every human arm, 

No power on earth could save — - 
The mother and her lovely boy 

Both sunk beneath the wave. 



JptfEMS. 253 



THE 

KIRK SESSION. 



A POEM. 



Is there a Session that resembles 
The Pharisees, who swallowed camels 
And strain 'd at gnats? For such a Session, 
No matter what denomination, 
This lengthen'd tale of truth's intended — 
To such 'tis humbly recommended. 



In winter, when 'tis cald and dusky, 
And damp December bawls for whisky, 
When social bodies splice their groat, 
To synd the mouse-wabs down their throat, 
In Maggy Hell's, wha, 'tis confest, 
Keeps ay a bottle o' the best. 
Inspirin' draughts o' Maggy's water 
Soon raises up a clitter clatter, 

y 



« 



254 POEMS. 

Ablins about the state or kirk, 
Our wages, and the rate o* wark j 
About the prices o' provisions, 
Or pleas at law and court decisions. 
On manufacture, war, and trade, 
There's mony an observation made; 
Ancient and modern revolution 
Display our powers of elocution ; 
And seldom, o'er the flowing glass, 
Does clergymen get leave to pass. 
Says James, they're sober usefu' men \ 
Says rattlin' Rab, I dinna ken, 
They're cram'd sae IV o' cursed greed, 
Self seems the spirit o' their creed $ 
For a' the douse religious clock, 
There's some o' them like ither fowk. 

While thus the orator advances, 
Thoughtless of sour-mou'd consequences, 
The wild effusions o' his brain, 
Fell source of after plague and pain, 
He little thinks some pick thank dog. 
That's listening at his very lug, 



poems. 255 

Will tell the priest, or man of power, 
The freedoms of that social hour. 

Could we ourseFs sae far command, 
(But Scots are wise a-hint the hand), 
Our tongues within our teeth to steek, 
And think twice owre before we speak, 
What blows, what bruises, what vexations. 
And mortifying explanations 
Might we avoid ! what friends retain, 
Whose loss we never can regain! 
That this sad observation's true, 
The warld can furnish proofs enew, 
Which but to mention time would fail— 
Suffice it here to tell a tale. 

It happened on a winter night, 
The stars aboon ware blinkin' bright ; 
The north wind whistl'd o'er the hills •, 
The frost had stopt the water mills ; 
And wabster John, a cracky car], 
But sair forfoughten wi' the warl', 
Tir'd hingin' a' day owre his yarn, 
Thowless, crabbit, an' forfairn, 

y 2 



256 poems. 

His very taes and fingers freezing 
Bethought him on the ingle bleezin'j 
In whisky Meg's ; and wi ? gude will 
Set owre the gate to get a gill. 

When John arriv'd, he faund a quorum 
Of politicians there before him, 
Foretellin', like prognosticators, 
The success of negotiators, 
The fall of cities under siege, 
And when the armies would engage, 
And whare the fleets would tak' their station^ 
And parliamentary prorogation, 
Wi' store of ithcr clashmaclatter, 
Of sense and nonsense, less or greater. 
While some ware speakin', ithers glowrin', 
Their greedy lugs ilk word devouring 
The crack turned, in a little space* 
Upon a priest, whose rosy face 
Gae opportunity to Sandy 
To swear he drank owre muckle brandy. 
Says Ned, his wame's mair worth observing 
An' troth, when mony ane's maist starving 



poems. 257 

I grudge to see that idle fallow 
Sae out o' shape wi' guts an' tallow. 
J Twad tak' a ten pound leg o' mutton, 
At least, to supper sic a glutton ! 
Aye! preaching's turn'd a thrivin' trade, 
His right hand neighbour smiPd, an' said, 
We toil till Saturday frae Monday ; 
They work their week's wark maist on Sunday: 
We'll win twall shillings, maybe ten, 
What syne, we dinna work like men, 
But horse — and aft wi' scanty diet ; 
While they on boil'd and roast beef riot- 
How they afford it dinna speer, 
Wi' twa three hunder' pounds a-year. 

Its very true, said wabster Johnnie, 
They're like the drones that sip the honey, 
But tell me, neighbour, wad you think, 
A priest, swell'd up wi' meat and drink, 
Enclos'd beside a bloomm' beauty, 
To read a lecture on her duty, 
Can be so clear o' love's warm embers. 
Sac mortified in a' his members, 
Y3 



258 poems* 

And void 6* carnal inclination, 

As no to feel the saft temptation ? 

Ye ken, 'tis still a practice common 

5 Mong clergymen, that men an' women* 

Some time before initiation, 

Attend for private conversation, 

That if they understand their creed, 

The pastor may be satisfied. 

Nae doubt they're maistly honest men; 

Still there may be, I dinna ken, 

Sly rakes and hypocrites amang them, 

And though I wad be laith to wrang ther% 

Yet, in a room whare nane can see them, 

Say, wad ye trust yer daughter wi' them ? 

When John had ended this harangue, 
Some thought it right, some ca'd it wrang ^ 
But Jarnmie, slee, play'd muckle wrack 
For, soon as he had heard the crack, 
He pay'd his shot, an' tuke his leave, 
His burden' d conscience to relieve ; 
And wi' the kirk to currie favour, 
Tald Eider Jchn the silly haver. 



poems, 259 

Douse Elder John, wha could nae think 
At sic ungodly wark to wink, 
Inflam'd wi' fervour and wi' zeal, 
Ran to the priest, and tald the tale. 
His reverence stamp' d and star'd wi' rage, 
And ca't it waur than sacrilege, 
And instant form'd the resolution 
Of ecclesiastic prosecution, 
And, as determined nem con. 
Convoked the Session, summon'd John. 

Ah ! John, they'll brode you to the bane, 
You would na let their kirk alane, 
I see they've got you i' their grips, 
And sair, I dread, they'll yark your hips, 
They'll scart your een, and pu' your lugs ; 
And as a pack 6' hungry dogs 
Runs down and worries poor Tod Laurie; 
Sae will the snarling tykes devour ye. 
Naething, alas! but deep contrition, 
Can mend your pityfu' condition. 

"When John receiv'd the haly libel, 
He left his loom, drew till his Bible, 



260 POEMS. 

Mark'd down the texts he meant to touch. 
Syne clapt the volume in his pouch, 
Got affhis beard, and brush'd his shoon. 
And took the road, quite out o* tune. 
Wi' solemn dread his heart was quakin', 
His very legs beneath him shakin', 
Afraid the Session-house to enter: 
But nae remead, in John maun venture; 
Sae tirlin' gently at the pin, 
The Beadle introduced him in. 

Here Johnnie bow'd, an' glowrin* round, 
To his experience he found 
The Session met in solemn form, 
In silent, serious, grave decorum. 
Now, now the hour to play the man — 

Johnnie do the best ye can; 
Wi* courage fortify your heart, 
And like a hero play your part; 

1 shou'd be wae to see them wrang ye— 
Ae comfort is, they darna hang ye. 

The Moderator silence broke, 
And thus, wi' serious tone, he spoke : 



POEMS. 261 

" The Session has got information, 
That, in despite of your profession, 
And void of every mark of grace, 
You utter'd, in a certain place, 
No doubt to raise the laugh of fools, 
'Gainst holy men and holy rules, 
A charge 'gainst clergymen in common, 
For privily instructing women, 
Asserting nae sic thing should be, 
And ca'd it rank indecency. 
You blackening base calumniator, 
How durst you holy men bespatter, 
Or call a pastor fornicator ? 
In these detested dregs of time, 
When seriousness is deern'd a crime, 
And scoffers walk the world at large, 
What time was this for sic a charge ? 
What can you plead in your defence, 
To vindicate sic impudence ?** 

The pannel to the charge attended, 
Which, when the Moderator ended, 
Tlie silent members, all as one, 
Tum'd their expectin' eyes on John, 



2'6& POEMS. 

Wha button'd up his jocky coat, 

And made a' hoste to clear his throat, 

And thus address'd the court at large : 

** With patience I have heard your charge, 

And what I've said Til ne'er deny, 

Nor ken I ony reason why 

I should retract a single sentence— 

What's nae a crime, needs nae repentance. 

Had ye mair tow to fill your rock, 

Less wad ye trouble workin* fowk, 

That dinna want, for ilk expression, 

To be tormented wi' your Session, 

What pastor, tell me, have I blam'd ? 

What individual have I nam'd ? 

'Tis modes, not men, that I attack^ 

And as I said, I'll ne'er retract; 

But, Moderator, you had better, 

I guess aff hand, to end this matter j 

For tent me, Sir, if you pursue't, 

'Twill do mair ill, I fear, than good— - 

If you agree, I'm satisfied." 

" Sic impudence," the court replied, 

€i To pardon your deep-dyed offences, 

Wad show the kirk had tint her senses ; 



POEMS. 26#' 

You'll be rebuk'd for your transgression, 

And that before the congregation, 

As aft's the Session shall agree — 

This, only this, can make you free." 

" Na, na," says John, M that's no the gate 

I mean to settle this debate, 

Sae far's ye winna pass the matter, 

The mair mischief, the sport's the better; 

And should you afterward think shame o't, 

Ye'll mind 'tis you maun bear the blame o'U 

T^e Session kens* an* sae do I, 

Your scheme has nae authority — 

What Scripture text, in a' the Bible, 

Supports this priest-invented fable ? 

What time did the apostle Paul, 

Some virgin to his closet haul ? 

Or when did Peter, James* or John, 

The like o' that e'er think upon ? 

But modern self-conceited asses 

Would lock themselves up wi* the lasses, 

Syne plead some triflin' sham pretence, 

A mere burlesque on common sense — 

'Tware hard to think ye dinna ken, 

That priests are just like ither men, 



■H . POEMS. 

Inhabiting whatever climes, 

For passions, foibles, follies, crimes. 

And if its so, as all agree, 

Then whare's the odds 'tween you and me. 

Suppose, to bring the matter home, 

I tak' your daughter to my room, 

Its little odds on what pretence, 

My conduct's sure to give offencej 

Even you yoursel' wou'd find a handle, 

To tortur't into public scandal; 

But charge a priest on that same score, 

Oh! then it is we'll hear a roar, 

As if the wolf were in the fauld, 

Devourin' baith the young and auld. 

'Tjs partial proceeding this, 

Or else I ken na what it is." 

But here the Session tint a' patience, 
And scornin' formal regulations, 
Wi' rage, and mater like to burst, 
Each strivin' wha wou'd answer first, 
Commenc'd a more confused gabble 
Than was at building ancient Babel. 
You've seen a chapman wi' his pack, 
Maist like to break his weary back, 







POEMS. 

>Iow movifi 1 up the village street, 
Whar dogs for their diversion meet, 
Some idle cur observes ,the carl, 
Begins to bark, to wirr, an' snarl; 
Alarm'd each village bitch's son, 
Like furies on the pedler run, 
Who sleely wi' his cudgel stark, 
Lends blustering Birky sic a yark, 
That lays him sprawlin' at his feet ; 
While a' the frighted curs retreat : 
Just sae did John, wha guess'd their ettle, 
When he brought up his heavy metal ; 
First gaird the tane, and syne the tither, 
And sometimes rak'd them a' thegither 
Wi* showers o' grape ; but still he found 
The foe was rather gainin' ground; 
When he observ'd the din increasing 
And scarce heard what he was expressing 
He rais'd his voice like ony trumpet, 
And on the Session table thumpet, 
Till he, wi' bald vociferation, 
Silenc'd the clamours o* the Session. 

To this wild storm a ca'm succeeds, 
And John to his defence proceeds. 

Z 



268 poems* 

But here, again, a reverend project 

O'erset the pannel's wabster logic. 

The Moderator told him plainly, 

He was sae wild and sae ungainly, 

That all his hopes were fairly gone 

Of any business being done, 

At least, says he, this afternoon ; 

The Session therefore I adjourn : 

But think what cause you hae to mourn, 

Your words profane must, like a dart, 

Pierce every tender Christian heart. 

Alas! like Judas, with a kiss 

You've sold the cause ! 'Tis this, oh ! this 

Shou'd make you weep for your offences, 

And will, when ye come to your senses. 

The Session meets some future day — 

And in the mean time let us — > 

Hame ran the wabster, fidgin' fain, 
And thought the day was a' his ain, 
And up and down, about the matter 
Made muckle din and clitter clatter; 
But thought next time he might do better, 
And for that end prepared himself, 
Mair readily his tale to tell 



POEMS. 267 

Time slides awa' wi' little din, 
The thievish hours unnotic'd rin. 
The interval of Session ended, 
They met again, and John attended. 

<c Now John/' resum'd the Moderator, 
si I hope you've duly weigh'd the matter, 
And that, wi' dutiful submission, 
You'll own your error to the Session, 
And leave it all to their decision-, 
Who, with impartial precision, 
In passing sentence will combine, 
As runs the books of discipline." 

iC Had priests," said John, " since they began, 
But follow'd up the apostles' plan 
In all their acts^of judicature, 
It had been a very different matter ; 
Or had they shown, on all occasions, 
A practice squar'd to their professions; 
Then had I, wi' implicit faith, 
Suppos'd them just and modest baith, 
Z2 



268 poems. 

And nae sic wark had been about it, 
Nor had I here this day disputed— 
But since the page of former times 
Hands down a catalogue of crimes 
Wad gar a body blush to read them, 
And moderns scarce let them exceed them— 
How impudent must be that Session, 
Wad hae me trust to their decision ! 

In proof o' this — when priests ware Roman, 
And modestly renounc'd the women, 
So powerful was their delicacy, 
So strong their vows of celibacy, 
The world rever'd their resignation 
As sanctity past imitation— 
But all was sham and mere pretence ; 
The times were dark, men wanted sense, 
And every thing they said believ'd j 
And shamefully they were deceiv'd ; 
For under mask of fair profession, 
When females came to mak' confession, 
The holy fathers, reverend brothers, 
DeflowA'd the daughters, whor'd the mothers, 



poems. 269 

The husband's bosom pierc'd wi' thorns, 
And naething grew sae rank as horns •, 
Till some began to smell their tricks, 
And judging they deserv'd their licks, 
Expos'd their rogueries to the people, 
Wha batter'd down baith kirk and steeple, 
And hunted the lascivious knaves 
To holes and corners, dens and caves, 

To think on their lewd pleasures gone- " 

" Scop ! stop a wee," cried Elder John, 
c * Supposin* a* you've said ware true, 
"What signifies sic nonsense now ? 
Before the glorious Reformation, 
When darkness overspread the nation, 
There's little doubt but there might be, 
At that time sic impurity ; 
But since that happy mornin' dawn'd, 
And knowledge spreads through every land, 
The clergymen hae wi ? their wives, 
Led holy and religious lives, 
And been sinsyne examples bright, 
A blazin', burnin', shinin' light ; 
And though the sons of darkness try 
Their characters to vilify, 
Z 3 



270 POEMS, 

They'll find their malice unavailing 
And their infernal rancour failin 5 ." 

" Well, well," said John, " keep ca'm an' easy, 
1'se no wi' lang-syne stories tease ye, 
That lie expos'd to some suspicion, 
Frae channel vague of aid tradition, 
But chiefly rest my vindication 
On facts within our observation. 

Ye kend Jock Blank aboon the muir, 
He look'd sae reverend and demure, 
That ilka ane took him to be 
The quintessence of piety ; 
And yet for a 5 , the senseless stirk 
Elop'd frae stipend, manse, and kirk, 
His virtuous wife and family, 
And wi' a strumpet ran away. 
There's Barr, wha, wi' superior skill, 
Preach' d far ayont yon sna' clad hill, 
For kissing o' his servant maid 
Was forc'd to drap the preachin' trade. 
And thund'rin' Laurie, fy for shame! 
That glam'd at Tibby Tinsy's wame, 






POEMS. 271 

And ither things I needna tell, 

Because ye ken them a' yoursel'; 

The facts were proven in his face, 

For which, 'tis kend, he lost his place. 

A pulpiteer, suppos'd the best 

By a' the auld wives i' the west, 

Of oratory the very saul, 

Maist match for the apostle Paul. 

An elder's wife, worn out wi' grief, 

Apply'd to him for some relief; 

The hypocrite, wi' serious face, 

Spak lang of doubts and marks of grace, 

Till, wi' circnmloquacious wheel, 

He laid her gently on her . 

Madam frae a' her fears gat freed, 
Gaed hame well pleas'd an' edified. 
This farce was often times repeated, 
But in the end itsel' defeated; 
It came to light, nae matter how, 
An' clos'd the twa-fac'd rascals mou. 
A reverend doctor, no lang syne, 
Wha did in classic learnin' shine, 
And thousands yet can well attest, 
That he could preach as well's the best ; 



272 POEMS. 

Yet wi' his neighbour's wife trim* con. 
For twenty years he carried on. 
But time would fail, were I to tell 
The tenth o' what ye ken yourseP, 
Of midnight routs an' drunken rants, 
Or bawdy sangs o' college saints, 
Skuldudrie, plain fornication, 
And of adultrous conversation, 
That closer than Burgundy plaister, 

Attaches to the name of ■ — , 

? Tis but a specimen I gie 
Of c — — 1 indecency; 
Were I to break through bars an 5 locks, 
And rifle the mysterious box, 
Where lie conceal' d from vulgar ken, 

The rigmaries of c n, 

The rank effluvia might rise, 

And, ablins, mortify the skies ; 

But what I've said I hold sufficient, 

To prove the priest is aft deficient 

In duty, an' as aft miscarries 

As ony man in a' the parish. 

Then whare's your right, to. end a' jestin', 

Let common sense resolve the question, 



poems* 273 

In private roams, wi* bolted doors, 

To meet wi' virgins, wives, or w ? 

Drop your pretensions, drop, for shame! 
This ill authenticated claim, 
And mind I'm only tellin' you 
What every body thinks is true. 

But here a reverend hoary sage 
Starts up, electrified wi J rage — 
I've been an elder thraty year, 
And aften met the Session here, 
And mony a point I've heard disputed, 
And mony a head Strang member flouted ; 
But this ill-manner ? d ragin' fallow 
Seems like's he wad the Session swallow, 
And much I wonder that your patience » 
Can thole to hear sic prophanations, 
Or waste your time on sic a fool* 
And bear his senseless ridicule — 
I move that; you send round the vote, 
Decide the matter on the spot^ 
To this the members all agreed ; 
And round the vote was sent wi' speed, 



274 POEMS. 

The' Session clerk declar'd, as one 

All were agreed to censure John; 

(Wha show'd nae symptoms of repentance,) 

And saddle him wi' the lesser sentence. 

Against the sentence John protested, 
Amind to ken the warst and best o't, 
In hopes o' gettin' fairer play 
Before the reverend Presbyt'ry. 
" Perhaps too late you may repent it," 
Said he, " glf I should chance to print it; 
'Twill a* rub aff when it grows dry — 
Sae Reverend Gentlemen good bye." 

Meanwhile, the news o 9 John's appeal 
Was spreadin' fast o'er moor an' dale, 
Like burnin' whins, or blazin' heather, 
Before the wind in drouthy weather, 
And through ilk corner o' the town, 
The only news that circl'd roun', 
To fill the blanks of conversation, 
Was John's protest against the Session. 
Thus in suspense while matters hung, 
Wits, %tgs, and wabsters, auld and young, 



POEMS. 275 

Were out o' patience for the day 
Of meeting o' the Presby fry. 

The wish'd for period at last 
Arrived, and drove- >cv ^ ' s e fast, 
Of a' descriptions, thick and thro 1 jj 
The kirk was cram u uy to luc tongue. 

With solemn step and reverend air, 
At length the gentlemen appear. 
The court was fenc'd, the members set, 
And each punctilio complete \ 
While the expectin' auditory 
Ware gapin ? for the wishful story. 
The clerk, as fast as he was able, 
Flang down his scrawls upo' the table, 
And then th' affair that first came on, 
Was the important cause of John: 
Who like a pannel took his station, 
And heard the minutes of the Session 
Distinctly read, from first to last} 
As were the reasons of protest. 



276 POEMS* 

The populace restrained a while 
Their humour to a smirkin' smile, 
But at the tale o' Johnnie's daughter, 
They burst in furious fits o' laughter ; 
First ae teehee, an' syne anither, 
Enrag'd the Fathers a' thegether. 
The reverend carls, auld an' teugh, 
Flet, while the younger brethren leugh, 
Nor cou'd they for a while display 
Their wonted airs of gravity ; 
But a' was soon restored to peace, 
And gravity resumed her place. 

At last the prosecutor rose, 
And wading through the subject, shows 
The rueful guilt o* John's transgression, 
Misca'd him sair, but roos'd the Session, 
"Wi* store o' sound, but little sense. 
Next John stood forth in his defence — ■ 
<c For mentioning, my Reverend Fathers, 
"What many thousands think, and others, 
As frankly as myself, avow, 
Pm forc'd to make appeal to you 



POEMS. 277 



From the injustice of the Session 
And eccles'astical oppression - 9 
Let your decision, then, proclaim 
To all that justice is your aim, 
That your integrity of heart ay 
Triumphs o'er interest and party. 
'Tis very true, we seldom see 
Ae corbie pick anither's ee ; 
Yet, to eradicate the blame 
Wi' which defaulters stain your name, 
Nae mair at partial verdicts wink, 
For ance be just, speak as ye think ; 
'Tis no for mercy I contend, 
The cause is good that I defend— 
The war id can judge as well as you> 
They'll brings our sentence to review j 
Justice alone will stand the test — 
You'll find it at the last, the best. 

Without a minute's langer pause, 
To try the merits o' the cause, 
The court did with impatience burn, 
And every member spake in- turn. 
2 A 



2*78 POEMS. 

If ane was ill, the next was waur, 

Against the pannel at the bar. 

Tliey girn'd, they flet, they hum'd an' ha'd, 

And John's behaviour sae misca'd, 

And us'd sic surly freedoms wi' him, 

Wad made a body wae to see him. 

But John observin* their behaviour, 

And no a tongue mov'd in his favour, 

Bethought himseP the time was come 

To speak his mind, or ay sing dumb. 

"Fathers," said John, " I plainly see 
Your hale design concernin' me, 
And tho' I think it right uncivil, 
To fling a poor man to the devil, 
Still I demand, while, yet before ye, 
Your clemency to hear my story,; 
I'll ne'er deny, but that I said 
Enough to blast your closet trade; 
A business, I must still aver, 
Looks neither modest like nor fair, 
And naething.in the king's dominions 
Cou'd rivet me in my opinions 



POEMS. 279 

Sae very stedfast, as to see 

Sae many b- h — ds all agree : 

The very weans at the schools 

Might see you're either rogues or fools — 

But argument, I find 3 is vain, 

Before sic prepossessed men." 

Here, having finished 'his defence, 
John turn'd him to the audience — 
"Ye see, my friends, how I've been treated) 
You've heard the whole affair debated, 
It only now remains that I 
Be banish'd your society y 
I leave you with sincere regret. 
But here 'tis all a whim to fret. 
A lesson learn at my expence, 
G never waste good common sense 
On sic a dark- dogmatic crew, 
Lest ye, like me, too late may rue* 
For right or wrang ye'il be refuted — 
They're owre black craws for us f o shoot at, 
Just prin your faith to their gown sleeve; 
Whate'er your- teachers say believe, 
2 A 2 



280 POEMS. 

Whatever tiiey command you, do, 
What they ca 5 right, ca' ye't right too; 
Ne'er contradict nor criticise them; 
Be hypocrites, that's what will please them. 
You may observe, as well as me, 
They court infallibility ! 
And gude's their right, when I consider 
And lay the te thing to the tither— 
Dead to the warld and a* its pleasures. 
Its honours and its empty treasures, 
Their very lives their hatred prove, 
Of worldly wealth, and carnal love! 
The Pharisees, lang syne, you know, 
Of virtue made a public show *, 
But they, more modest and discreet, 
Keep a' their virtues aff the street, 
From public eye and public clamour, 
Hid in some secret inner chamber. 
Behold how loving and discreet, 
How kind, how couthy like, and sweet! 
A reverend Father, bald and hoary, 
His sapient wig at least five story, 
Closed up frae a' unhallow'd een 
Wi' lovely Miss o y sweet saxteen ! 



POEMS. 281 

Tho* blushin' like a rose in blossom, 
Upon her palpitating bosom 
He slides his hand as saft as woo', 
Syne prints instruction on her mou ! 
Wha but admires this private teachin'? 
? Tis mair emphatic far than preachin'! 
Hence ! each profane licentious eye, 
Nor into solemn secrets pry. 
Ye dames, let your suspicion sleep, 
Nor at the closet key-hole peep. 
Oh dinna harbour sic a notion — 
There's naething here but pure devotion. 

The Presbyt'ry cou'd thole nae langer, 
Their cheeks grew red wi' reverend anger, 
They'd hear nae mair o' Johnnie's sang, 
But cut him short in his harangue, 
And heav'd him owre the vineyard wa% 
A terror baith to grit and sma\ 

2 A a 



282. POEMS. 



A SONG, 



Dear Nancy, that cauld heart o' thine , 

My life will soon destroy ; 
Why doorn'd for ever more to hope* 

Yet never to enjoy? 
Sweet maid, with one consenting smile 

This honest heart approve — 
There's mony richer lad than me, 

Yet few sae rich in love— ■ 
Yet few sae rich in love my dear* 

Yet few sae rich in love. 
There's mony richer lad than me, 

Yet few sae rich in love. 

Were I possessed of a' the wealth 

The Indies have in store, 
An hundred ships upo' the sea 

To waft my treasures o'er, 



POEMS. 285 

The paltry pleasures I'd despise, 

Sic ample stores cou'd gie — 
Sweet Nancy, treasure o' my soul, 

I'd part with a' for thee. 

I'd part, &c. 

Accept this faithful heart of mine, 

Nae langer say me nay^ 
Let love and tender pity join, 

To name our marriage-day. 
O then! wi' Nancy in my arms, 

How happy shall I be! 
Ah! who cou'd envy kings their crowns, 

Blest with a wife like thee — 
Blest with a wife like thee, my dear, 

Blest with a wife like thee. 
Ah! who cou'd envy kings their crowns, 

Blest with a wife like thee. 



234 poems. 



a soim 



Robin Burns sang o' Jean, 
The wonder o' the green*, 
And Ramsay his Peggy sang wi' skill O — 
But vain the Muse's power, 
To paint the blushing flower 
That smiles on the brow o' yon hill O, 
Sae sweet beyond compare, 
Sae modest and sae fair, 
Wi' a voice sae melodious and. shrill Of 
The youth laments and sighs, 
He languishes and dies, 
For the bonny lass that lives on the hill O- 

Had Homer sung till now, 
With the laurels on his brow, 
And the Muses each night round his pillows- 
Alas! the matchless bard 
Wad find the task too hard 
To paint this dear lassoc o' the hill O, 
Sae sweet, &c. 



POEMS. 285 



Fair Nell of ancient Greece 
Wad mufiTd up her face, 
Cleopatra, the nymph o' the Nile O, 
Wad hid her head wF shame 
In presence o' the dame, 
That blooms like a rose on the hill O. 
Sae sweet, &c* 

The goddess from the sea, 
Had she seen this lovely she, 
Wad fled upon the back of a billow, 
Nor stop'd to dree the scorn 
Of this fairest ever born, 
That shines like the sun on the hill O. 
Sae sweety &c« 

Tho> Iupiter to Crete, 
As ancient bards relate, 
Transported his lass like a bull O, 
Europa, I'm afraid, 
For him had died a maid, 
Had he first seen the lass o* the hill O, 
Sae sweet, &c. 



2S6 POEMS. 

This bonnie mountain lass, 
When she trips alang the grass, 
The shepherds in amazement stand still Ov 
The lambs, a frollic band, 
Fond to lick her lilly hand, 
Skip round the dear lassie on the hill O. 
Sae sweet, &c. 

Fause-hearted swains beware, 
She's modest as she's fair, 
Sae harmless, she dreams naething ill O^ 
Yet vent a vicious .breath, 
And she'll frown you to death, 
Sae chaste is the maid o' the hill O; 
Sae sweet, &c. 

But wherefore thus, in vain, 
Do I lengthen out my strain ? 
Why tarnish her praise wi' my quill O,. 
Attempting to unfold 
What never can be told, 
All the charms o' the maid on the hill O ? 
Sae sweet ; &c. 



POEMS, 287 

Were I sae blest as gain 
This lassie for my ain, 
T' ornament my cott by the rill Oj 

IReclin'd upon her breast, 
Pd sooth my cares to rest, 
While the tempest roar'd loud owre the hill O. 
Sae sweet beyond compare, 
Sae modest and sae fair, 
Wi' a voice sae melodious and shrill O, 
Reclin'd upon her breast, 
Fd sooth my cares to rest, 
While the tempest roar'd loud owre the hill O, 



268 poems*, 

THE 

ADVENTURES AND TRAGICAL DAETH 

OF 

THE SHEPHERDS DOG. 



A juvenal Production. 



Of a' the kintra colly dogs 

That ever Scotland saw, 
An* monny sonsy tyke she's seen, 

My Devon waurd them a*. 
His wordy mither's name was Tweed, 

Altho' 'tis nae sae clear 
Wha was his father — neither need 

"We fash oursel's to speer; 
But Devon's breast was like a swan, 

The hair upon his back 
Was sleeket like an otter's skin, 

An' o* a glossy black, 



POEMS. 289 

A gawsy face, an* just aboon 

His hazel een, had he 
Twa bonny spots, the shape, the size, 

An' colour o' a bee. 
I gat him when he was a whalp, 

I brought him up wi' care, 
An* when he came to be a dog, 
Few cou'd wi' him compare; 
For Devon had a lion's heart, 

Frae danger wadna flee, 
But manfully cou'd tak' his part 

In ilka company. 
He had the cunnin' o* the fox, 

Cou'd mimic like the ape, 
An* his deportment wisely cou'd 

To all occasions shape. 
At tender tales he learnt to greet, 

To laugh at mirth an' glee; 
Kind, condescending, and discreet, 

An* sensible was he* 
When on the summer sunny brae, 

I wont to croon my sang, 
There, Devon always sang a part, 
Mair loud an 9 ay mair lang; 
2B 



290 POEMS, 

Or when at night we were convened 

To sing the Psalms, then he 
Wad yowl a boon the loudest notes 

Of Colshill or Dundee. 
If Devon for his melody 

Was banishM to the door, 
Even there the tyke wad sit and sing 

Far louder than before. 
For bashfu' modesty and shame 

His like Pli never seej 
And for a kind sagacious cur, 

His better cou'dna be. 
Frae owre the hill, wi' speed an 9 skill, 

A lang Scots mile an* mair, 
Down to the fauld wad Devon drive 

The flock, syne watch them there* 
Ae scowry mornin' i* the spring, 

When he cam 5 frae the hill, 
Fain wad he lickt the parritch pat 

Had he but had his will ; 
But, sad mischance! his brither cur 

First hame, had seiz'd the prizej 
But Devon had a stratagem 

Of nae deficient size, 



POEMS, 2&1 

He curl'd his tail, prickt up hrs lugs, 

Sync thuncTrm* to the door, 
Bark'd, wowf d, and wirr'd, 'ike he had seen 

Of tinkers twa three score* 
His simple brither dream'd nae harm, 

But ran to see the spree y 
And Devon sleely slipet in, 

The parritch pat to pree. 
Anither time, about the tail 

Of har'st, a butcher cam', 
An* havin* bought, he drave away 

Nine wedders an' a ram — 
Poor Devon luket i' my face, 

As if he meant to speak : 
At lang-run I began to guess, 

An* held the impatient tyke, 
I held him fast till they ware gane 

For ha'f a mile or mair, 
Syne gae the brute his liberty. 

How he improv'd it hear ; 
As darts the lightiim' aff the hill, 

He streeket down the glen, 
An' safely, in a little ^pace, 

Brought a' the sheep again. 
2B2 



292 POEMS. 

Yes, Devon was of dogs the wale^ 

O' friends the most sincere ; 
I fear'd nae shepherd on the hill 

If Devon was but there. 
But a' his praises to set forth 

A summer's day wad spend, 
Let this suffice for Devon's worth 

An' mark his tragic end. 



■> 



Great men hae foibles, sae hae dogs, 

However great they be y 
Even Devon forfeit baith his lugs, 

Though he was dear to me y 
For Devon join'd a worthless pack y 

"Wha us'd, when dogs shou'd sleep* 
To range like thieves frae hill to hiM, 

And worry lambs an' sheep. 
An honest shepherd, wha had lost 

A lamb the night before, 
Watch'd wi J his gun. At gray day-light 

Cam' the mischievous core. 
T.ve shepherd kend my thievish cur, 

Wi' speed pursued him hame ; 
And Devon, conscious o' his crime, 

Hang down hisf tail for shame. 



poems. 29$ 

He ran to me, in hopes to be 

Protected frae his wrath ; 
But such his crime, alas! that he 

Was doom'd to instant death-, 
I pled his cause wi' a my skill, 

But findin' that in vain, 
I put my year's fee in his will; 

He spurn' d it wi' disdain. 
The shepherd cock'd his murd'rin' gun : 

I form'd the brave design 
The culprit's carcase to protect, 

And cover'd it wi' mine — 
But all in vain, my hopes an' pain 

His vengeance did deride; 
He tore poor Devon frae my arms^ 

An' shot him by my s^de. 
But what I thought, or how I felt 5 

Alas ! I canna tell, 
When I receiv'd his last sad look*, 

As if he said, farewel ! 
But down by yonder roarin' stream-, 

I buried him fu* deep, 
Then sat upon his lonely grave, 

The saut.saut tears to weep. 
2 B 3 



294 POEMS, 



Answer to a Card of Invitation , from an aged 
Lady, to see her Poetical productions^ 



Bt duty urg'd and inclination, 
To thank yon for your invitation. 
The Muse has ta'en a rhymin' tid ; 
And therefore sends, by Willie Reid* 
Your messenger, as justly du«, 
Her very best respects to you. 

Nae doubt you'll think, had you but been 
A bonny lass o' sweet se'enteen, 
And me a youthfV rovin' swanky, 
I'd come upo' my shanks to thank ye— 
That season's gane, yet wha wad fret, 
Since friendship never comes too late ^ 
And trust me, Madam, 1 with pleasure 
Will come and see your rhymin' treasure, 
And that right soon; for well ye ken, 
That dad Apollo's ragget train 



POEMS* 295 

Of rhymin' lads and singin' lasses, 

Wad leave roast beef, ragouts, and sauces^ 

Ice-creams, and sic like foolish fancies, , 

To riot on a dish o' stanzas. 

For this the glutton says we're fools, 

And a' our whim's he ridicules $ 

While thifty bods, wi' saul intent 

On naething less than cent per cent, 

Heez'd up w? self-importance, curse us 

For crazy heads an' empty purses ;. 

Wi' solemn sapient sneer an' scorn, 

They swear we're daft; but saft's their horn 5 

For shou'd sic grov'lin' slaves o' Mammon 

Be hang'd as heigh's their cousin Hamman, 

We'll sing our sang an r never mind them, 

But tak' the blockheads as we find them. 

Farewel my friend, an' may the Muse, 
That cull'd the flowers for Robin's brows, 
An' gart his notes sae sweetly soun' 
Alang she bonny banks o' Doun, 
And taught him how to strike the lyre. 
To strains fraught wi' poetic fire, 
Gave wit invention, rhyme and numbers 5 



29& POEMS* 

May she preside owre a your slumbers-*. \ 

Conduct you by the rill's meander, 

Whare love-sick swains by moon-light wander* 

Through myrtle groves an' beds o' roses, 

Whare love with innocence reposes, 

Or vallies green, or spreadin' trees, 

Whare singki' birds, an' hummin' bees* 

Enchant the scene; there to your heart 

And ear sic melody impart, 

Will gar my female friend, ere lang, 

Sing mony a bonny bonny sang, 

While I'm your humble servant, with 

All due devotion, Thomas Smith* 



The following was wrote in answer to a Piece that ap<- 
peared in the Glasgow Courier about the beginning 
of last Winter , said to be a Letter from Jof Mjller, 
Esq. a gentleman in the country^ to his Brother in 
Glasgow. 

Dear Joseph, I'm your humble debtor, 
For your descriptive friendly letter 
Concerning a' the whims an' humours, 
The various plans an' clashin' rumours, 



PGEM3. 29? 

Whare, when, and how, to ware the siller 
Subscrib'd for peerless Nelson's Pillar- 
Accept thir lines, as an expression 
Of love and kind congratulation. 

But Joe, tho' you're my born brither, 
An' but yoursel' ne'er had anither — 
You've surely seen the whisky barrel 
That time when you began to quarrel* 
To blame, to banter, and deride* 
The plan for building it in Clyde* 
Ye ken I'm sinel gi'en to snarlin' j 
But d'ye think, Sir, Neptune's darim', 
Wha frae the Nile had round Cape Hera 
Been on the boist'rous billows borne, 
And brav'd grim Death in various forms, 
In ragin' climes and roarin' storms, 
Whare whirlin' mad tornadoes blow, 
Or whare he met Britannia's foe, 
Wad stand, wi' mair tarpawlian pride, 
On Glasgow green than rear'd in Clyde.. 
On Glasgow green ! 'mang cattle grazing 
For noisy washerwives to gaze on-— 



198 POEMS. 

Ah ! taste deprav'd ! Believe me, Joseph,' 
Td rather see an inch yer nose aff. 
Still, Joe, mybritherly affections 
Wad fain remove a' your objections, 
And lest your beaus and macaronies 
At once, like fish an* 'Shetland ponies, 
Swim wi' their doxies on their back j 
Or lest your cobles suffer wrack — * 
To quash sic idle fears for ever, 
Just set him stride*! egs o'er the river 5, 
Besides a savin' in court plaister, 
You'll find it safest, wisest, best, Sir* 

Next, your remarks on rearing seamen. 
Convinces me that you've been dreamin'. 
What man, when wakin', wad imagine, 
That when the winds an' waves are ragin*, 
The young Jack tar wad flinch his station 
The mair, for learning navigation \ 
Shrink back, or like a wench stand wailing 
Forsooth ! 'cause he kens traverse sailin' ; 
Or like some saft land-lubber dog look, 
Merely 'cause he can work the logbook ! 
My neighbour man swears by his conscience, 
He thinks sic notions a' curst nonsense. 



I>OEMS. 299 

But you're afraid, else I'm mista'en, 
For killin' twa dogs wi' ae bane, 
In case our children might suppose 
Their fathers look'd before their nose, 
In choosin' plans that cou'd produce, 
At once baith elegance and use. 
Or is it fright that breaks your rest, 
Lest some strange bird invade your nest # ? 
In faith! my friend, on ca'm reflection, 
I own there's weight in that objection; 
For jealousy brods waur than thorns^ 
How terrible a head o' horns ! 
The very thought, as story tells, 
Has gart some hunders hang themsels. 
But courage, Joe ! for smaest price 
Ye'll get your brither's best advice, 
Which ablins may these fears disarm ; 
I ken an antidotic charm, 
Probatum est 'gainst indecorum, 
In style and taste Hispaniorum> 



* Let the friends of the school on their own bottom rest, 
$tar wUh to be warm in another bud's nest. 

Joe Milieu 



500 POEMS, 

To guarantee the joys of wedlock, 
In simple phrase, Mendoza's padlock ; 
Secur'd with this, yell get your will St, 
Either to make a kirk or mill o't. 
But lest I sing you out o' patience, 
I'll here conclude my lucubrations ; 
My lu.iD of oil is emptied fairly; 
Mean time, believe me, most sincerely, 
A friend to Nelson's fame and Pillar, 
Likewise you brither — Samuel Miller. 



HEALTH. 

The morning invites — come away; 
From your beds, ye dull sleepers, arise, 

The sun has begun 

His circuit to run, 
And glory spreads over the skies. 

Let the cit leave the smoke of the town, 
And breathe the sweet balm of the morn, 
Forgo his soft down, 
His night-cap and gown, 
While the thrush pours her notes from the thorn* 



POEMS. 801/ 

Let the virgin, that longs to embrace 
The wish of her heart in her arms, 

Inhale the pure air 

From Aurora the fair, 
To brighten her delicate charms. 

Let the sage leave his books and his theme, 

And Nature's fair volume survey- 
Is truth the pursuit ? 
He'll find it, no doubt, 

With eloquence preach'd from each spray.. 

Does beauty, or grandeur sublime, 
Enrapture thine heart or thine eyes ? 

To the summit repair, 

When the morning is fair, 
Ere the sun in his glory arise. 

2C 



S02 POEMS* 

THE 

DUNGEON SLAVED REVERIE. 



And must I linger out my wretched days 

In darkness, doom'd to dig this sordid ore ? 
Sunbeams pierce my subterraneous place; 

And gentle west winds fan my blood no more- 
Hail destruction's blasting breath ! 
Hail ye ministers of death ! 

In cars of vengeance hurl'd, 
Welcome famine, plague, and fire, 
Volcanoes, floods, and thunders dire, 
Let jarring elements conspire, 
And conflagrate the world. 
The world ! — A scene of misery and grief, 
Of slavery, degradation, want, and toil, 
Where death alone can bring the wretch relief, 
From tyrants that oppress, to part the spoiL 

Blow, ye winds, with fearful fury, 
Sweep creation blank and bare, 
Terminate the villain's glory ; 
Virtue nothing has to fear- 



POEMS. 30$ 

Earthquakes from their deep foundations 

Heave the everlasting hills ; 
Till, with trembling agitation, 

Universal Nature reels. — 
Through the veins that reach the sulphurous store 

In Earth's bosom, deep and dark, 
JEtna, pour thy streams of burning ore r 
Send the conflagrating spark, 
Fire the mines* 
And anon 
All is over* 
All is gone ( 
Lo ! like a bubble, or a bursting shell, 
Exploding, bursts the pond'rous earthy ball I 
Now, the shatter'd fragments fly — 
Hark! yon sweet harmonious cry, 
Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! 
Liberty ! liberty ! 
The slave regains his liberty^ 
And Virtue, smiling at the shock, 
Bursts her bands, throws off her yoke, 
And soaring 'bove the noise and smoke, 
Regains her native sky. 
2 C2 



804 POEMS. 



On reading an Account of the Massacre of the 
Protestants at Paris, 1572. 



Demons furious and fell, 
Monsters without parallel* 
Hell disgorging fire and furies, 
Towns that iEtna's lava buries, 
Nature's elemental jar, 
Famine, pestilence, and war; 
Even cannibals perverting nature,, 
Who devour their fellow-creature,, 
And, amid expiring groans, 
Eat the flesh and champ the bones-* 
Ne'er such horror cou'd impart, 
To agonise the feeling heart, 
Or appal the pitying ear, 
Or provoke the gushing tear,. 
As the rank infernal tale 
Of infuriate blinded zeal, 
Causeless blood and butchery, 
Gallia, that dishonour'd thee* 



POEMS. 305 



EPITAPH. 

Sober for ance, 

Here lies the banes 
O' druken Sandy Pye — 

Had Clyde an' Tay 

Been Usquabeaugh, 
He wad hae drunk them dry. 



EPITAPH ON W H N. 

Ye hallowM stanes, if ony body speer 
Wha's a thir banes, that quietly moulder herey 
Tell them, the owner wore a russet coat, 
Yet well contented wi' his sober lot, 
Discharg'd the duties o' his humble station, 
And left a pattern worth their imitation > 
The friend of man, the enemy of strife, 
The ornament and pride of social life— 
His part perform'd, which honest men approv'd. 
He died lamented, as he lived bslov'd. 
2 C 3 



306 POEMS*. 



A SONG. 



My name is bold Arthur OFlamer j 

And all the contents of my pack. 
My pincers, my last, and my hammer, 

I trudge them about on my back. 
With my twing twang fal de ral ady, 

With my twing twang fal de ral lae,~ 
With my fal de ral adada dady, 

Fala deda dade dade* 

And, to be sure, brother and you have heard of 
the great Bralighan O'Flamer, that liv'd on the 
mountains of Newry — I remember, when I was a 
little fellow, tumbling about, my good old mother, 
(rest her dear shoul) would often tell me how he 
fought the king of Munster, and after killing him 
with his sword, carried off his head in one hand, 
and his daughter in the other ; and how he had her 
lock'd up in his own brass castle, because she was 



POEMS* 307 

terribly in love with him — and so she was. This 
O'Flamer, besides being my father's great-grand-fa- 
ther, was the strongest man in the world, and one 
of the biggest O's in all Ireland, by the holy St Pa* 
trick. 

From Dublin I travelPd to Deny, 

From Belfast I traveird to Cork y 
But ne'er found a snab yet, that fairly 

Cou'd tip me at shoemakers work.. 

With my twing, &c. 

I remember, one time, when Iwas working in 
Dublin, a blustering sort of a fellow bet a gallon of 
brandy to an Irish thirteen, that he would make five 
shoes for my three ; and after I had beat him, what 
do ye think ? Why, the fellow refused to pay me, 
because I had forgot the heel of one of my shoes. 
So I kick'd and I cuff'd him about, till all my bones 
were so terribly broken and bruised, that the poor 
fellow was obliged to help me to bed at the sign of 
the cat and bagpipes. 



808 P0EM3. 

For twenty years Fve been a rover, 

And wasted the prime of my life 5. 
But now all my pleasures are over, 

I'm saddl'd at last with a wife. 

"With my twing, &c. 

Gh ! honey, had I only had the good fortune to- 
be hang'd on Stephen's green that day L got mar- 
ried, then had I died like a good Christian, and 
been happy; now I only live to be bother' d to 
death.— But bad luck to my sweet shoul, if I donk 
hold her beef to her bones. 

She*s bandy, she's bleer-eyed and blinking, 
She's bunchy, hump-backed, and black,. 

A devil for scolding and drinking — 

Oh ! her tongue goes for ever click clack. 
With my twing, &c. 

Last night, when I was, after giving her a wait- 
ing (bad luck to her!) if she did not raise such a 
murder-shout against me, that alarmed all the 
neighbours-, and who think you should come, but 
her old acquaintance M'Durphy; and while I was, 



POEMS, 309 

after knocking him down with his shilelay, my sweet 
angel, with the help of the pocker, mark'd my poor 
sconce with Cumberland's coat of arms ; but I found 
means to discharge her bill with double interest— 

And now we are parted for ever— 
This morning, before it was light, 

I; plunged her three times in the river, 
And courteously wished her good night t 
With my twing, &c- 



ON 

RECENT OCCURRENCES. 

*Tis better than a tomand back, 
Sin* Bonaparte catch'd cousin Mack, 
An* ay sinsyne has black disaster 
Been comin' faster on and faster. 
While Europe's scourge, wi* iron paws^ 
Gowfs kings about like tennis ba's. 
In vain they fly, still he pursues thenv 
Unsatisfied till he undoes thenv 



510 POEMS. 

And mak*s, just as it gusts his palate, 
A valet king, or king a valet. 

The like o' this was never kentl 
Sic magazines o* powther spent, 
Sae mony tons o* moulded metal, 
Discharg'd wi' man-destroying ettle ; 
What sticking burnin', hashin', mawin' r 
"What cutting slashing gully gawin'f 
What heaps o* dead! what groans o' dying I 
What mutilated armies flying ! 
What happy families quite undone f 
Alas ! what kingdoms over-run ! 
? Tis serious wark •, but wha can tell us r 
But thae wild domineerin' fellows 
May come to lose their proof o* shot yet. 
And get the whistle o' their groat yet ? 

The victor shook his magic wand, 
"I'll reign," said he, " By sea and land - 9 . 
Go, tell the Cadiz fleet from me, 
Immediately to put to seaj 
And, hark ye, Sirra ! tell them plain, 



POEMS. Sll 

To sink the British on the main, 
Or never enter port again. 

But Nelson happened to hear tell, 
That Bona's fleet was under sail; 
And, favour'd wi' a friendly gale, 
That took his Lordship by the tail, 
He soon o'ertook them — Then pell mell 
Right on the head he struck the nail. 
Ha'f smoor'd wi' brunstane, smeek, an' smell, 
The Monsies an' the Dons did yell ; 
While iron bolts o' vengeance fell 
Amang them thick, like showers o' hail. 
He gart his thundering' broad-sides tell 
So thick an' thrang, sae smart an' snell, 
An' bash'd their massy hulks sae well, 
That wi' Britannia's iron bell, 
He rang proud Gaul's ,departin' knell, 
Syne brarvely bade the world farewel, 

And left his country to bewail 

A loss nae gain can countervail. 

Eventful year 1 day after day, 
As thy swift current roll'd away, 



312 POEMS. 

Has furnish' d tales of grief an' sorrow. 
And still fresh anguish came to-morrow. 
Twa heroes brave resign' d their breath \ 
Twa mighty statesmen sunk in death- 
Heroes, that bore aloft the palm; 
And statesmen, memory will embalm — 
Their country's hope, the nations pride, 
Are soundly sleepin' side by side. 
Alas ! the cypress an' the yew, 
With sable weeds of darkest hue, 
Mark thy calamitous retreat, 
And add distinction to thy date. 



AN EPISTLE 

TO 

THOMAS SMITH, 

On reading his first three Numbers. 

Dear Brither Tam, 
There is an auld command, I ween, 
Says we maun toil frae morn to e'en, 



POEMS. Sit 

At least sax days out o' the seven, 
To keep a' matters square an' even; 
The whilk, as far as I can see, 
Maun strickly be observ'd by me. 

The plague on Fortune, crazy jade ! 
'Tis fit to pit a body mad, 
To think upo' her random gaits 
In dealin' out our different fates ; 
For aft, aneath her smile, we see 
The wirthless, to the last degree, 
Frae poortith into plenty jump-, 
An' mony a dunce the pu'pit thump; 
Mean rascals raised to rule the hws, 
Wha by our coat decide our cause ; 
An' aft we see the coward dog 
In goold an' scarlet strut in cog*\ 
E'en senates cram d wi' arrant prigs, 
An' ayes an' noes, an' turn-cont whigs; 
An' then, at times for grave debate, 
We've kailwife counsellors o' state—* 
An' gin we glance the warl' roun', 
I douutna, iaah! but we a crowa 
2 D 



314 FOE MS. 

May note upo' an empty pan ; 

A sceptre in a tyrant's han', 

"Wha kicks up broils wi* friends an' foes* 

An' fechts to gie the warl' repose ; 

While aft by her the best o' men 

Are' Left to toil, an' barely fenV 

But this had pass't unnotic'd by 

Erow, had it nae been that I 

Meant, lang ere now, to you to write ; 

An 9 troth it put me mad wr* spite, 

To think the jade refus'd me time 

To write a brither Bard in rhyme ; 

But though she growls an' grumbles still, 

I've sworn for ance to hae my will; 

My pen I've ta'en, but not to wheese you, 

Nor carp, nor quarrel, nor criticise you. 

There's some, when ance begun to praise, 
Run headlang on, nor ever stays 
V^e faut to fin 5 , tho* fauts appear, 
Nought mars the tongue, or grates the ear. 
At ance they swear the whole is prime* 
Enchanting noble, grand, sublime } 



POEMS. 315 

Their aim's to please, for fame they burn, 
An' hopes ye'il roose them in return, 
An* be as kind as they hae been, 
An' a* their fauts an' failings screen ; 
Their warks are published to the wari% 
Some critic chaps o'er them maun snarl. 
The Bard, to show their want o' sense, 
Ca's up your lines in his defence; 
Then without mercy ye're abus'd, 
Because ye hae the blockhead roos'd, 

The critics, on the tither hand, 
An ill-bred, ili-hair'd, selfish band, 
Wi' verbs, an' nouns, an' moods, an' tenses, 
Are fit to bother out our senses — 
" The measure suits the subject ill;. 
The subject's chosen \vi' little skill; 
That line is stiff, and this is prose; 
There's some, indeed, that smoothly flows; 
But then the notions are not new, 
He's stolen them — let me see from who :" 
Syne quotes some celebrated sage, 
Points out the book, points out the page, 
2 D Of 



316 POEMS. 

An' straught proceeds, wi' critic care. 
Their grand selections to compare i 
Through whilk is often to be seen, 
If not their want o' sense, their spleen,, 
Forbye a rousin' share o' pride, 
As nane ware fit to judge beside. 

Our brither bards are little better- 
Hear Swift's opinion o' the matter: 
* 4 What poet would not mourn, to see 
His brother write as well as he ? 
But rather than they should excels 
He'd wish his rivals all in hell !'' 
>Twas well observed by the Dean, 
The fact is to be daily seen ; 
The poet, jealous o' his fame, 
Dow scarcely hear another's name, 
Unless it be (an 5 that will please him) 
To hector o'er an 5 criticise him. 

In different ways they shew their fears : 
Some nail the piece ere it appears ; 
While ithers, rather mair discreet, 
Reserve their verdict till they see't ; 



POEMS, 317 

An' shou'd it please the public taste, 
E'en then they winna pass't in haste; 
But let some chap their mind on't spier, 
They're sure to answer wi' a sneer \ 

It pleases some, but, trust me, they- • 

But I hae naething mair to say, 
Or, ablins, this^ he's done his best ; 
Some things are good, but, oh! the rest, 
Such stuff — But hold, you'll say 'tis spite, 
Because I sometimes verses write. 
By thae, an' sic lik verdicts, they 
At once their fears an' pride betray \ 
Yet, after a', amang your kin 
Yell doubtless some exceptions fin'. 

But; here I come* at last, to tel!> 
How I amang the critics fell. 
A short address * I'd wrote, was handet 
Frae. ane to ane, till ance it landet 

Wi' great D W at the end, 

And I was order'd to attend. 



*" Entitled, c< Touissaint's Address to his Arm)v'- 
2 D 3 



318 POEMS. 

At whilk my heart wi' vigour dunder 3 
For fear that I wad be affrontet ; 
Yet soon resolv'd to tak' the gaet, 
An' bear wi' fortitude my fate, 

Then off I set, admittance gain'd* 
An* soon an audience, too, obtain'd. 
Wi' solemn steps the sage appear'd, 
An' first some trifling questions spier'd* 
Syne looket grave ? severe, an' big> 
An' fix't the posture o' his wig, 
Whilk was as white's the driven snaw i 
A wiser wig ye never saw. 
Upo' his nose sic specks he pbc't, 
As wad a dunce's noddle grac't — 
An' syne the piece did slightly scan \ 
Again look't grave, an 5 thus began : 

In writing this you hae some merit 5 
I must confess ? tis done wi' spirit, 
Bat is not for European climes, 
At least it does not suit the times. 
What is your trade ? Sometimes I weave^ 
Said I, on purpose to deceive. 



POEMS. 319 

His phiz he threw, an% sneerin', said* 
All will be poets, I'm afraid, 
Syne handed my bit paper o'er. 
Guid day, quo' I, an' took the door. 

Wi* his decision ill content, 
A short extract frae it I sent 
To ane, wha try'd the rhymin' trade ; 
But here I naething better sped, 
He lap an' roar'd like ane that's frantic - 9 
It did not suit this side th' Atlantic, 
Talk'd as I wish't to stir up strife 
? Mang those wi' whom I led my life: 
Whilk forc't me, in my vindication, 
To send him back a declaration. 
Th' extract an* it are here affixt, 
An' ye may pass your verdict next. 

But Tarn, to end this rhymin' letter ; 
Ye hae done weel, let them do better 
That mean to carp an' pick a quarrel^ 
Ere they wi' you begin to snarl. 
I said before I wadna wheese ye* 
Nor wad I try to criticise ye— 



> POEMS. 

So say I still ; but this Pll say, 
Your warks a fund o' wit display, 
Strong fancy, fire, an* routh o' fun, 
An' strokes o' feeling, through them run, 
O' common sense ye're nae way scant, 
An' words at will ye dinna want — 
Yet nane frae fauts are fairly free,- 
An' ye hae yours as well as me; 
But what o' that, we're free -to swear, 
Like priests, there's nae perfection here — « 
Sae fare ye weel, an' haud ye merry. 
An' I remain your friend, 

J. Chirrey* 



EXTRACT 



FROM 



TOUISSAINT's ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY, 

But to Columbia's land now turn your eyes, 
By force of arms she gain'd th< immortal prize, 



POEMS, 82* 

Defiance bade to Britain's warlike hosts, 
And proudly now her independence boasts. 
'Twas there old Gallia's sons for freedom fought, 
'Twas there that they eternal glory bought, 
Met their proud rivals on the fields of fame, 
Their thirst for empire, and their pride to tame; 
But Britons tamely see them cross the waves 
You to enslave ; for Britons deal in slaves! 
These proud Europeans seem to be combined 
To deal destruction to the sable kind. 
Without allies, without one single friend, 
Your independence on yourselves depend— 
Be brave, courageous, to the end endure; 
Be firm, united, and your vict'ry's sure. 



Declaration referred to in the Epistle* 

I hate contention as I love my life, 
I grieve, not wish, to see the world in strife ; 
Mankind I love, without respect of climes, 
Nor mind their colour when I damn their crimes ; 



522 poems. 

Alike in all fair Virtue's charms I prize, 
.And vice in all I equally despise \ 
The mighty king, the beggar brae'd with bags, 
The towering hero, or the slave in rags, 
Whate'er they merit, whether praise or blame, 
Without distinction, should receive the same* 

Let servile bards of those proclaim the praise, 
Whose only merit's in the poet's lays, 
Who live as justice from the earth were flown* 
And every vice a noble virtue grown, 
Still let them flatter, and ransack their brains 
To find out figures to wipe off the stains 
That deck their heroes, as a. fool is deck't, 
With all the colours of the rain-bow speck't— 
My daring Muse disdains that hackney'd plan, 
Nor will she bow to flatter vice in man, 
She leaves that course to those who hunt for fame^ 
To try if satire growing vice can tame. 



POEMS. 823 



IN ANSWER 



Mr JOHN CHIRREY^ EPISTLE. 



Since mankind cannot always sleep* 
And idle dogs aft worry sheep, 
I judge, my friend, our greatest treasure 
Of health, morality, and pleasure, 
Consists in active operation, 
Cou'd this be ta'en in moderation ; 
Nor wad we think our pains ill war^d, 
E'en shou'dwe some times labour hard, 
Cou'd that procure us meat an* cleaes, 
An* spare a mite for future ease : 
But waes me ! wha cou'd ere endure 
To toil for ever, yet be poor, 
Devour their morsel like a dog, 
Scarce time aliow'd to scart the cog, 
Or draw the bonnet o'er their face, 
In gratitude, to say the grace. 



$24* FOEMS. 

Nae doubt, the dead time o* the year, 
When meat an' eldin's scarce an' dear, 
Poor fowk maun do the best they can — 
"When Mature suffers, why not man ? 
But Spring comes round, 'tis all a matter ; 
If naething waur, they're little better, 
Still gapin' Poverty pursues them, 
And scarcely in a month allows them 
An hour to see the gowans springing 
Or hear the canty levrock singin*. 

The savage, thaf ransacks the wood 
In quest of venison for food, 
Or draws the aquatic frae the lake, 
He broil* his fish, he broils his steak, 
The rest hung up to dry an' keep; 
Lies down content, an" fa'« asleep, 
( no* wiuter round his wigwam roarin') 
Sae sound, 1 think I hear him snorin'. 
Nae palace near, wi' turrets braw, 
Nae c< urtier to debauch his squau, 
Nor ruffled coxcomb, sprush and gay, 
To gar him fling his furs away— 



poems. 325 

He sees himsel' just like his brither, 

An' thinks ae man as good's anither. 

He loves his friends, he loves his wife, 

An' in his rovin' random life, 
* Kens very little good or ill; 

Yet roves alang, contented still— 

Nae wide extremes of joy or grief, 

Nae bags o' gold to tempt the thief; 
His wants, and hence his cares, but few, 
Nae rents, nae tithes, nae taxes due, 
The game for food, the skins for claithin'; 
He lives as free's the air we breathe in. 
An', trust me, friend, compar'd wi' their s y 
The crosses, comforts, and the cares, 
The toil, the turbulence, an' strife, 
Insep'rate frae a polish'd life, 
In spite o' poets' dreamin' havers, 
Leave little balance in our favours. 

Hech man ! what strong lang shanket fallows 
Ware livin' i' the days o' Wallace ! 
An' tho' they never tasted tea, 
Or rarities brought o'er the sea, 
2E 



S26 POEMS. 

They liv'd, as we're inform'd by story, 
Till they grew blind as well as hoary ; 
What syne, they wad hae thought it queer. 
Had they been toii'd an' squeez'd as we're. 
? Tis clear, however, aye sin' trade 
Began to flourish, man decay'd 5 
Till now, compared wi' ages past, 
We're dwindl'd down to dwarfs at last. 
Still Fortune, we need hardly blame her, 
*Tis scarcely worth our while to name her, 
Just let her jog, as she's inclin'd, 
An' blunder on— they say she's blind, 

Next, for yer fiatterin' sons o' rhyme, 
Wha barter praise — I haena time, 
But just to tell them sic a bubble 
Will ne'er reward the owner's trouble. 
But, ah ! yer critics, keeps a' frae them 1 
I'm terrified to meddle wi' them •, 
Their crab-like scrutinizin' faces, 
Their wigs, an' their lang-sighted glasses, 
Like ghosts haunt my imagination, 
Till a' my frame's in agitation, 



POEMS, 327 

My very heart's wi' terror quaking 

An', see, my writin' hand's a' shaken ! 

But stop — what need I be sae frightet, 

What's wrang wi' mine, just let them right it : 

Like traveller syne, wi' blister'd soles, 

Or auld eart rumblin' to the coals, 

Or like some ill-row'd fishm' coble, 

My stanzas shall nae langer hobble ; 

But still the warst objection's brewing 

They'd, ablins, easier mak' a new ane* 

I think ye hinted i' yer letter, 
Our brither bards are naething better : 
That some o' them, sae fou o' spleen, 

Can d n a piece before 'tis seen--* 

'Tis far frae my design, I'm sure, 
To ca' their verdict premature; 
Wi' me, their matchless penetration 
Leads wonder on to admiration — 
Nor their's alone ; anither tribe, 
Whom Ophir's gold cou'd never bribe, 
To tell a body guff or sty, 
Till ance they hear the hue an ? cry, 
2 E 2 



328 POEMS. 

But prudently keep up their fire, 
We never can enough admire. 

The piece that's d -n'd, they never roosM it; 

The piece that's prais'd, they ne'er abus'd it— 

Hence, free without incurring blame, 

To sail like dead fish down the stream, 

Or, at the last, unlock their rnou, 

An' prat as other parrots do. 

Like ane, that wore an elder's coat, 

When it cam' till his turn to vote, 

ci Come, John," the clerk said, " be nae slack.' 5 

What side did Mr P n tak ? 

Ye maunna tak it ill for speerin'; 

Ye ken Pm something dull o'hearin\ 

** The negative was the reply." 

Yea, did he hum — — then, sae do L 

Sae German boors, wi' great good sense, 
Stand ?,t a distance in suspense, 
Alike the foe of each conflictor, 
Till fate decides, then hail the victor. 

Of your extract I'll say, in fine, 
It needs nae eulogy cf mine, 
Nor shall I on the subject dwell, 
It speaks sae brawly for itsel\ 



poems, 329 

What angers ane may please a hunder ; 

An' truly, friend, 'twad be a wonder, 

Even shou'd the Muses a' combine, 

An' ilka lady write a line, 

To see the bards agreed about it, 

Or let the piece pass undisputed — 

Still I maun own, 'tis much delighting 

To hear the fools, like fish-wives, flytin', 

Or see them spewin', as their pen goes, 

Their venom'd gall in streams, like rainbows ! 

While wags at their expence sit gawfin', 

Maist like to rive their chafts wi' laughin'. 

I'll only farther add, dear brither, 

What I langsyne learnt frae my mither— ~ 

A gude tongue never brake a bane ; 

He's wise lets sleepin' dogs alane — 

An' now farewel. May peace an' patience^ 

Sweet dreams, an' pleasant meditations, 

A fouth o' rhymes, o' wit an' wealth, 

Wi' muckle happiness an' health* 

Be your companions late an' early, 

An' I remain yer friend sincerely, 

T. Smith. 
2 E 3 






POEMS. 



TO THE MUSE. 



Of cheerful friends, companions true, 

How painful is the last adieu ! 

Since fair Clarissa left the plain, 

Adolphus 3 tears have flow'd amain, 

And still the streamlets, woods, and groves> 

That witnessed their unsullied loves, 

In his reflecting bosom rise, 

And steal- fresh torrents from his eyes — - 

Come, then, my Muse, in plaintive strain, 

Sing poor Adolphus' hopeless pain, 

"With tears impregnate every line. 

Adolphus' strain shall soon be mine, 

Congenial sighs shall rend this heart 

Ere long, my friend, when we must part, ^ 

What though thy feeble unfledg'd wing, 

Forbade in lofty strains to sing, 

Forbade to tempt Parnassus height, 

With airy fancy's soaring flight; 

Or Zion's hill, renown' d in song, 

Where Salem's towers the notes prolong ; 



« 



POEMS* 331 

Or Horeb's Mount, where hallow'd cloud, 
Did Israel's God in darkness shroud, 
While flames devoured, and thunders roar'd, 
And Jacob's prostrate sons ador'd; 
When the eternal laws of heaven, 
In awful majesty, were given — 
Still, still my Muse, thy rustic lay, 
Has often smooth'd my rugged way, 
And life's inveterate ills beguil'd, 
Till very disappointment smil'd. 

When Fortune frown'd, when cares oppress'd, 
And pain and sorrow marr'd my rest ; 
When friends, like birds of passage, fled 
To warmer climes-^Then, friendly maid, 
'Twas thine to start the soothing lay, 
And sing my sorrows quite away : 
But who, alas! shall hear my moan, 
And cheer my heart, when thou art gone? 

And now, past life's meridian hour, 
When lengthening shades begin to lowr, 
Companionless, ah ! must I creep 
Adown the quick descending steep, 



m? 



332 



POEMS. 



That leads to yen dark vale below, 

That ever echoes notes of woe ? 

And v^iJt thou,, then, my friendly Muse, 

Like an affronted friend, refuse 

To sooth my late disturbed dreams, 

With notes caught from the murmuring streams, 

That gladden the realms above, 

Where every strain is universal love. 



■ 



F I N I S. 






ERRATA. 

Page 60, line 13, Tor pi ch'd, read pinch* & 
72, 1 9, For he, read hue, 

219, 16, For their, read her, 

232, 17, For tribe, read our tribe, 

242, 13, For confud, read confus'd. 

S02, 3, In some copies, for Sunbeams, read No timbcamu 



INDEX. 



Fage. 
Author's apology ....... ,^^^ . . 3 

Answer to J W 's epistle . . .-". . 98 

Ditto to a card of invitation from an aged lady . 294 

Ditto to Joe Miller, Esq 296 

Ditto to Mr Chirrey 

Barbarity . . 

Bachelor . , . . . . 51 

Battle of Sh—t n 148 

Blind man's lamentation ........ 225 

Corn bill 143 

Cutty stool . 154 

Confusion of tongues . -. . 162 

Charles J. Fox 203 

Corn monger 230 

Death of Lord Nelson 77 

Disconsolate mother 186 

Dungeon slave's reverie ......... 302 

Emigrant 16 

Ecclesiastes xi. 9 83 

Extreme agitation of mind 242 

Epistle to the author by J — W ... 95 

Ditto by J. Chirrey . 312 



334 INDEX. 

Page, 

Epistle to J M- r, Edinr . . . . ' . . 116 

Epigram 236 

Epitaph on a celebrated toast 206 

Ditto on Sandy Pye 305 

Ditto on W H — n . ib. 

Ditto on the bachelor ........... 233 

Fancy 113 

Farmer and ox 1 34 

Firmamem^^^ .160 

Fortune fHf. . %J^ 207 

Good nature *..-.. 79 

George Washington, on reading his letter, &c. . 194 

Health 6C0 

Human life 84 

Happiness Mk* • . 227 

Invasion ... . . . 125 

Imitation of A nacreon 202 

Kirk Session ............. 253 

Mechanic ..- ^ ......... . 27 

Mutability of man 115 

Moorland wedding 173 

Morning Hymn . . . . ... . . . . . 196 

Morning 222 

Massacre at Paris 1572 . 304 

Negro slave 231 

Ode to death ............ 11 1 

Ochill hills ............. 209 

Psalm cxxxiii. . . 195 

Paraphrase on Psalm cxlviii. . 109 

Pity . . . . . • 160 



IN'T>EX. 



335 



Page. 
Frov. xxviii. 15. . . <. . . • • • • • • 164? 

Peace with France 175 

Petition of the wife of Almur AH Cawn . . .197 

Phcebus and Luna 240 

Religion . . 243 

Ditto 245 

Revolution of things . . 13 

Repentance ^MfA • ^3 

Recent occurrences , 309 

Soldier's funeral 81 

Storm .,,.... 122 

Spring A .185 

Sensualist . . agg gjjS ......... 246 

Strange occurrence 251 

Shepherd's dog ..... , 288 

To Miss H — -B. 188 

To the Muse 330 

Time 189 

Willie's wife 80 

War and ambition 164 

Virtue -^jj ... 158 

SONGS. 
Arthur O'Flamer ...... 306 

Caledonia ....... 25 

Come away, come lovely Flora ! 76 

Cease, ye noisy drums, to rattle . . . 173 

Come, dear Nancy come wi' me • . . 234 

But tell me, fond maid, ere on wedlock we venture 

Tune — " Hey, bonny lass, will ye lie in a barrack" 94 
Dear Nancy, that cauld heart o' thine. — Tune, " Be- 
lieve my vows, my sighs, my tears" . .282 



m 



l\i)EX. 



Page. 
Johnny Miller « . 200 

Mary Queen of Scots. — Tune " Waes my heart that 

we maun sinder" > 107 

Monsieur und Sawny . . . . .131 

Mam wishes me married, and sae doe* my daddy 237 

Old Soldier— Tune, " Tarn Glen" . . . 238 

Orphan boy, — Tune, M The cold frosty morning 3 * 141 
Robin ^ufhpjtfg o' Jean .... 284> 

The faiTTi^B^lipyB|jj^n sunshine makes hay * - 183 
Whare Charlie gets sillelHB|re^s naebody kens * . 235 
When fair Aurora greets the skies. — Tune, "O'er 

^ the moor to Maggy' ' ^kjL^L • • .241 

Ye flo very banks of winding Tay; — Tune, "The 

banks an' braes o' bonny Doun . 93 

Ye sons o' dull decorum, — Tune, " A ro^J|Pree full 

in bearing < jfe 204 



OEntereli in stationeries iMi 



1 



Z>. M'Ke^Je, Writers 
154. Trongate, Glasgow* 












JM 1 



JO 
Jtei 






^^^2a» ; »^S3^ 



> j>> 3^B> g> <> 2> — 






J>D IJ> 


> 


> )J 


2D o> 


3 


13 


5r> 3> 


> 


JB 


">3 o> 


> ) 


» 


^ a> 


> 


J^ 


35> 23> 


> 


^> 


^23 0> 


> 


2> 


Z»22> 


> 


-SI 


Z£> 3t> ^» 






2> » 


> 




>-» >? y 




»UHHP 


3> /" 


1 




>' ^> ^ 


► 




) 3) 1 


1 





> » > ;?Q - & ^jg* y 

33 > 33 a»jo o : 

33 30 



>3 






Ms 



)3 JT 

> 93 ;> 

"0 3 , T^ 

3 :> 

03 I 
>>> r- 

) 3 i . 
3 3 3 3 






3 > - 



boss* .5 

JO 3> ; 

J3fc>._ 









>3 :>^> 



}> 3» 



> 3 > ? 

£ xj> 3J* 



? ;■ 3 3x>> 3 > - 

> 3 3> 2) T5 > 

■ 3 ^^» ^3 ~* \ 



> 3D3 3 3 ; v 



X>3^P •> > 0~5 3 



> _ 



' >> 3^ 33 

> ^ 33 >> 



» 3_>^v 
> >>3^ 5 

3J>^ C 



^>D ^3>I 

> 3 ;>r> .■■-5 

o D 3o~- 

» 3 33 " 

J> 3> Z 

3> 3»^ 

J> ^> ;- 

3>2> 



-- > -^»3 



>?r> 


j> > V " 


>^"3 = 


3 3 ~ 


■ :j 3 


^> 3 


o) 


> 3 


^3 


3 ^> 


1 ^3 


5 ^> 


£B> 


3? > 


^>^ 


-> 3 


>^3 


> 3 



: 

3X»:> 
^> )>3.3 



3>; 



>..)^S -—5^ 









3 3>3^> 

^ 3* 3 > 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 153 788 A 



